


Heir of Slytherin

by IShouldBe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adding Dumbledore bashing too, F/M, Romance, ron bashing-as ever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 05:46:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 22,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17420216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IShouldBe/pseuds/IShouldBe
Summary: The wizarding world was in for one hell of a shock.SS/HG HEA...Always :)





	1. Chapter 1

_Prologue_

Ministry of Magic - August 1998

Severus Snape sank back into the deliciously padded chair, hand-stitched leather creaking under his shoulders, and let out a long, satisfied sigh. His highly polished dragonhide boots found the desk and he crossed his legs at the ankles.

He was the Minister. The Minister of Magic.

Fucking… _yes_.

He stared up at the smooth ceiling, his gaze tracing over the sculpted coving, pricks of magic sparking over the plaster —the necessary shield against the muggle world above them.

And something else… She was right.

A smile tugged at his mouth.

Of course she was. His little know-it-all.

He was well aware that Hermione Granger had put him on the throne, as it were—

A knock at the door —something quick and officious— drew his attention and he sat up, once more the strict and straight-backed former Potions Master. He fixed on his expected look of stern dourness and threaded his fingers over the smooth walnut surface of the vast desk. He drew in a breath.

_Maintain the act, Severus Snape._

His lips twitched upwards. That was definitely _her_ voice.

"Come!"

Percy Weasley oozed into the palatial office and strode towards him, the long walk over wood bringing the irritating and echoing clack of his heels. Severus' eyes narrowed on Percy's pointed shoes. Dear Merlin. _Red patent leather?_

Could he outlaw them as a crime against fashion, with a mandatory five year incarceration in Azkaban? He _was_ Minister, after all…

"Minister."

Percy smirked at him and a hex burned on Severus' tongue. Did the arrogant little prick think that his being pulled back into the bosom of the Weasleys give him a special place in _his_ administration?

Oh, he truly had no idea.

None of them did.

"Mr Weasley."

The smirk dimmed. Yes, one of the perks of teaching a huge swathe of the wizarding world was their name said in _his_ voice.

Percy's Adam's apple bobbed. "Sir…" His fingers flexed and the thick parchment in his hand crumpled. He looked to it. "Your itinerary." He held out it out over the desk. Severus didn't move…and Percy —with a mottled flush to his cheeks— put it on the desk. His fingertip tapped it in a nervous drum. "Hermione Granger insisted on her input. Sir, I know how she's viewed, but she's just a girl, the ink is still fresh on her NEWTs—"

"That is your opinion, Mr Weasley." Severus slid the parchment out from under the younger wizard's fingers and frowned at the print. Hermione's neat handwriting dotted it. She said she'd run his life — _properly_ — from now on.

Little dictator.

"Please send Miss Granger in." He looked up. "She is in the atrium, is she not?"

"She has no official function, Minister—"

Severus pressed his lips together. "Send her in _now_ , Mr Weasley."

Percy's skin flushed into a deeply mottled red that put his hair to shame and he gave a brisk nod, before turning on a sharp heel and stalking from the room. His robes flared and Severus smirked. He needed better charmwork if he wanted a full and _proper_ billow.

The door thudded into its frame and Severus was alone again in his huge office.

But not for long. "Miss Hermione Jean Granger."

Percy bit out her name, his face pinched. Did he see her as a threat to his job?

Well, finally a Weasley with an iota of sense.

"Thank you. Leave us, please."

Percy's mouth opened and closed, but he didn't offer yet more whinging. He nodded, gave Hermione a tight little glare and swept from the room in a snit. The door thudded into place.

Hermione rolled her eyes. She looked around the ornate opulence before she looked to him. "Nice office. So… _you_."

Severus snorted and pushed himself to his feet. He eased around his desk…and found himself with an armful of smirking witch. She wrapped strong thighs around his waist and looped her arms about his neck. Her dark brown eyes shone with want and devilment…and he had little doubt she'd demand a thorough fucking on the Minister's —on _his_ — desk.

He would be more than happy to oblige.

"Stage one, complete, my beautiful wife."

"Indeed…"

And she sounded so much like him, he couldn't help but snort.

Oh, the wizarding world was in for one _hell_ of a shock.


	2. How it begins...

1.

Dartmoor - September 1997

_"_ _Finally…"_

Hermione stilled. Her fingers froze on the golden chain of the horcrux. Oh dear god, was that…was that Vol—

Even in her mind —through Ron's constant griping— she cut off the dark wizard's name. Her heart drummed. Shit, _shit_ , she'd asked Harry if he'd been possessed, and now here she was caught—

A huff broke into the panicked run of her thoughts. _"Do I sound anything remotely similar to that…pretender?"_

Hermione released the chain and quick fingers dropped it down the front of her shirt. She twitched a smile at a tired Harry. "We can't risk that town with dementors swarming. Is there —I don't know— a farm shop nearby, do you think?"

Harry frowned, obviously pulling at his memory, distracted, and Ron, Ron was still weakened from blood loss and not eating half of his own bodyweight in pies—

She blinked at that waspish thought and strange male laughter chased through her thoughts. _"The Weasley whelp is not worthy of you."_

_"_ _Who are you?"_

And why she wasn't flinging the locket from her, she didn't know. That was a lie. She did. Something about the voice in her head was oddly familiar. An echo. A half memory. One that teased and promised to reveal itself…then vanished like morning mist.

Her instincts screamed that he wasn't Voldemort. But instinct was _not_ logic.

_"_ _I am what remains of Salazar Slytherin—"_

"Mione, are you all right? You've gone a funny colour." Harry put his hand over hers and she snapped her eyes open.

She forced a smile and jerked a nod. "Yes, sorry." She drew in a breath and rubbed her fingers over her forehead. "Tired I think. And stress."

"And hunger," Ron broke in. "You need to get us food, Mione."

_"_ _You're choosing him? The boy is a walking stomach."_

Hermione frowned. "I can find mushrooms." She was on her feet and out of the tent, the air fresh after the musty, used stink lingering inside. She breathed and wrapped her hand over the heavy locket resting between her breasts.

_"_ _You did the same as the…the pretender, then? A horcrux."_

Anger swirled through her hot and tight and her legs almost gave out. She grabbed at the trunk of a tree, leaning against it as the blaze of fury bloomed through her entire body. _"That's a no?"_

The wild surge of emotion faded back and Hermione dug the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. She sagged, breathing. As if her life wasn't already spinning out of control, she now had an ancient wizard tearing through every inch of her flesh.

_"_ _I apologise."_ The male voice —Merlin, _Salazar Slytherin_ — was low and quiet. _"I am ashamed of what the male blood of my line has done to our world. That he corrupted this repository…"_ A sigh followed. _"But then, this could be the way it —and I— was meant to reach you."_

"Me?"

Hermione squeaked the word aloud and slapped a hand to her mouth. _"I don't understand. I'm muggleborn. You…"_

_"_ _Gather mushrooms for the bottomless pit you wish to be bound to and we will discuss this when you are alone and able to focus."_

_"_ _He's been injured, and he's used to regular meals, and…"_

_"_ _Ronald Weasley agreed to this venture, aware that there would be hardships, yes? And yet, the minute his belly is empty he is griping at you to fix it. No suggestions. He did not even offer to help you look."_

_"_ _He's injured."_

_"_ _Yes, you would have turned him down. Yet,_ he did not offer _."_

Doubt twisted around her heart. She didn't want to listen to a strange voice in her head. She poked about with her wand, a spell lighting edible mushrooms in a white glow. Tugging free a button from her shirt she transfigured it into a low basket and piled the first of her haul into it.

Ron was…Ron. Even coming from a big family, he wasn't used to going hungry. And she was…making excuses for him. She wasn't used to missing meals either, but she wasn't whinging. Hell, he'd considered Grimmauld Place roughing it, with Kreacher on hand to feed them.

She blew out a breath and a flick of her wand trailed more mushrooms into her basket.

_"_ _If you want to retain any fondness for this boy, never let him wear this locket."_

Hermione closed her eyes, hating that… _he_ was right. It had dragged Harry down all too quickly, Merlin only knew how it would tear into Ron. _"And me?"_

_"_ _Your blood protects you."_

Hermione frowned. _"My…?"_

"Mione, you've been ages. Have you found _anything_?" Ron's head was out of the tent. "We're starving."

_"_ _You deserve better…"_

The soft echoing voice of Salazar Slytherin drifted through her mind. And, in that moment, she couldn't help but agree with him.


	3. Her Blood

_2._

_Dartmoor - September 1997_

The golden light of the lamp hanging from the apex of the tent flickered shadows over her bed. Harry had taken the first watch. The tent was quiet…ish. Ron's snores rumbled and Hermione hated that it was another mark against the wizard upon whom she'd set her heart.

He'd complained about the hot mushrooms, even when they'd hunted out salt and pepper and the scrapings of butter from an old larder secreted away behind one of the tent flaps. He'd complained about the water. He compared the simple meal to one of Molly's feasts and almost bitten Hermione's head clean off when she'd dared to mention Gamp's Five Laws.

She huffed and punched her flat and musty pillow. _That_ might have satisfied his ravenous hunger.

Soft laughter threaded through her mind. Yes, she'd been waiting for Salazar to make himself known again. _"You said my blood?"_

_"_ _To the point. Yet, I must set the scene."_

There was a hint of a devilish smile and Hermione found a wry smile tugging at her own mouth. _"Set away."_

In the pause that followed, she could almost feel the arch of an eyebrow. _"History has it that my line is male. That I favoured wizards…and despised muggleborns. This is a lie. Yes, my wife bore me sons, but she also gave me a daughter, Theosophia. A brilliant child; an even more brilliant woman."_

A heavy sigh flowed through Hermione, tinged with regret. _"But my wonderful daughter was born with a prophecy and I…I could not keep her._

_"_ _She was meant to bring balance back to our world. How, none of us knew…but the prophecy declared that she couldn't be known to be of my line. We gave her away, set her with a baron and his wife…and pushed into motion the rumours of my…loathing of muggles and muggleborns. To hide her…and any children she bore._

_"_ _Theosophia married the baron's nephew. Roger de Belleme. He treated her very well. My wife and I would visit her, as friends of her…father. I remember holding her first child, Sarah..."_

He grew silent and the ache of his loss was fresh and sharp.

_"_ _She…had no magic?"_

_"_ _Not a speck. But she spoke eight languages, was adept in mathematics and astrology, loved to hunt, and had a voice of such beauty…"_ Salazar paused and his voice grew stronger. _"Sarah matched her. A jewel of a child. And_ her _daughter…and so on down through the centuries. Always the first-born female. The hidden line of Slytherin."_

Heat bloomed in Hermione's chest as wild, impossible connections chased through her brain. No… _"My…my blood… I'm a descendent of Theosophia. I'm…your…"_ She caught her fingers in her hair. _"But I thought all of your descendants spoke parseltongue."_

_"_ _The_ male _line."_

Hermione stared up at the stained sweep on the tent fabric as her heart pounded and her brain turned over the impossibility of her being related to…to _Salazar Slytherin_. The wizard himself was thankfully silent as she tried —and failed— to accept it. But…she _did_ believe him. She did. Something about him, about that deep sure voice rang truth down to her very bones.

_"_ _Your basilisk turned me to stone."_

_"_ _He was the guardian of the Chamber, never meant…"_ He paused. _"I apologise."_

_"_ _Thank you. But…I mean, I'm not a muggleborn. If —_ because _— I'm related to you."_

_"_ _You are the first witch with Theosophia's blood. Excepting her, every one of your ancestors was a muggle. You are very much a muggleborn, Hermione Granger, and no lesser for it."_

_"_ _That's…"_ She drew in a long breath, surprised at the vehemence in the voice of one she long assumed hated her kind. A screen. It was all a screen. Her thoughts jumped. As she suspected another Slytherin wizard used a similar screen.

_"_ _Him. Yes. He is vital."_

Hermione blinked. _"You can't mean…"_

_"_ _I'm connected to my portrait at Hogwarts. Severus Snape can be trusted._ " Salazar snorted. _"A damn sight more than that old bastard, Dumbledore."_

_"_ _Oh now you go too far—"_

_"_ _Dumbledore forced Snape under an Unbreakable Vow. Merlin, the man was under two of them. Still is. Headmaster Snape is fighting alone to keep the school safe. He needs an ally. And so do you."_

_"_ _I have—"_

_"_ _A whining boy and another who's a conduit to the enemy."_

Her brows drew together. Tight. _"And Severus Snape isn't?"_

_"_ _He has Riddle's full trust. How successful does that say_ he is _in keeping his secrets?"_

_"_ _You're biased!"_

Rich laughter echoed, seeming to light the air around her and Hermione couldn't stop the quick twitch of her lips. _"Of course I am. I would have Severus Snape as my own blood, if I had the magic to do it. More than the bind of being the Head of my Hogwarts House."_ Salazar sighed. _"Caustic, brilliant…but bound resolutely to his own code. And I've not, in my thousand years, known a better liar."_

Hermione snorted. _"That's not something to admire."_

_"_ _Is it not?"_

There was that ghost of a shaped eyebrow through her mind. She thought of Snape…and wondered if it was a Slytherin House trait passed down through the centuries. Her stomach turned over. Did _she_ have it?

_"_ _Am I the end purpose of the prophecy tied to Theosophia? And what about this?"_ She tapped her finger against the locket under her pyjama top, her thoughts finally straight enough to think clearly. _"Tom Riddle is still in there with you. And…how can we destroy that part of him without removing you too? And there are more of them. He…shattered his soul…"_

An indulgent warmth suffused her and Hermione blinked. _"So like her."_ The emotion faded and something sure and bright pushed through her. _"First, my child…we must pull Headmaster Snape to our side."_


	4. Bossy...?

_3._

_Dartmoor - September 1997_

Hermione wished she could glare at the wizard squatting in her brain. Had a thousand years in a locket sent him absolutely round the bend? Even if she trusted that Snape was working on the side of the light — _even then—_ he was recognised as the right hand man of the ruling Dark Lord.

As a part of his cover, he'd be _forced_ to hand her over as Undesirable Number Two.

 _"_ _You have Phineas Black in your voluminous bag. Call him."_

 _"_ _Arrogant—"_

 _"_ _Ah, arrogance, just another word for…bossy."_

Hermione's face burned. Gods, how much of her was truly Slytherin? She was well aware that she could be quite ruthless and sharp and…and bossy.

 _"_ _You also are loyal and take great care of your own. I protected those I loved to my last breath."_

Hermione scrubbed her hands over her face and quickly cast a notice-me-not spell around her bed as well as _muffliato_. She glanced at her watch. It was almost two. Harry would need to come and sleep soon. She glanced at Ron and that sour turn twisted in her belly. No, she couldn't trust him to stay awake if he felt _he_ needed sleep. Necessity was exposing him to be a wizard on whom she could not rely.

With a sigh, she summoned Phineas' portrait from her bag and set it against the headboard. She wrapped a moth-eaten blanket around her shoulders to ward of the night-chill. "Headmaster Black?"

A huff and a grumble were distant and faint, but growing closer, until the sour-faced former Headmaster stalked into the golden frame. "It's late, you do realise that don't you, you impertinent chit?"

Salazar's lips pursed. Hermione could practically see them. _"Repeat these exact words: "The Augury is here and the Heads of Slytherin must heed my Call."_

Hermione did and watched in disbelief as the little man blanched, staggered in his frame and…and then _bowed_ , deep and low.

"My Lady," Phineas Black murmured, no hint of mockery in his aristocratic voice. "How my I serve?"

Hermione blinked and Salazar was already whispering. She straightened her shoulders and wet her lips. "Please, I require a meeting with Headmaster Snape. In good faith, and I trust that he will keep this conversation only between himself and you, Headmaster Black, and _only_ you"—yes, Salazar really loathed Albus Dumbledore—"there is an entrance to the Chamber of Secrets to the right of the fireplace in the headmaster's private sitting room. Have him meet me there, in the Chamber, tomorrow at noon."

Phineas bowed. "As my Lady commands." And he retreated from his frame.

Hermione sank forward onto her elbows and buried her face in her hands. "That was…weird."

 _"_ _Weird, as in a magical sense, yes. Those words, spoken aloud since the prophecy, are a solemn bind to my Heads of House. Severus Snape cannot betray you. Trust me."_

Hermione rolled her eyes, willed herself up and secreted the empty frame back into her bag. She cancelled the spells shrouding her and with a sigh, flopped back onto her mattress. It groaned and creaked under her. A few hours and her insane life had taken another wild flip. But…her trust in this wizard seemed to be written in her flesh and bones, she couldn't explain it. Logic defied it. But…if it got her out of this bloody tent and saved the wizarding world from all-out war, saved Harry, then she would follow him. She had to.

 _"_ _All right, how do_ I _get into Chamber of Secrets?"_


	5. The pact is set

_4._

_Hogsmeade - September 1997_

Hermione pulled her hood close to her face, glad that an autumn squall, all wind and sheeting rain, had set its sights on the little wizarding town of Hogsmeade. It was easier to scurry about, to hunker down against the weather…and then slip into a narrow alleyway that Salazar promised led to a hidden entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.

Her belly grumbled and the lie that she'd fed the boys, that she was going out to forage, reminded her that she still had to do that.

_"_ _Have the Headmaster provide. He has a whole floor of kitchens at his disposal. Perhaps even enough to fill a Weasley stomach."_

Hermione huffed a laugh and then a twist of guilt caught her. If —when— they came through his, Ron was her future. Her partner. The wizard standing at her side. Fathering her children. Her heart turned over. _Heirs of Slytherin… Fuck_. How would she explain that to him? Would he find the maturity to look past it? They were a thousand years removed from that wizard…and she wouldn't be magical without him in her blood.

A little dark part of her mind knew — _knew_ — he would hold it against her. That if something didn't go his way, then he would throw it at her…the low blow. For _years_.

Hermione closed her eyes and pulled in a chilled breath, the stink of wet earth and stone surrounding her. Worrying about Ron was for later. They had a pretender to defeat first.

_"_ _Prick you finger…and put out your hand now."_

Hermione did as she was told —not questioning his use of blood magic— and a swirl of warm magic chased around her, billowing her sodden cloak to dryness and lifting her, lifting her off her feet… She squeaked and the compress of magic whipped her away…

…to stumble on a long stone path and the huge, flesh-bare skeleton of a massive basilisk.

Hermione staggered back…and shrieked as large hands caught her upper arms.

"The Augury, I believe."

Severus Snape's smooth voice rumbled over her and she let out a slow breath. Her heart found an even beat and she turned, her fingers at the hood of her cloak. Salazar provided her with the words that would bind Snape to her. And break something that should never have been. "Do you renounce all other vows to hold mine?"

There was a long pause and Hermione wondered if he'd recogised her voice from his sudden stiffening...but he returned the rest of the bind, one passed down from every Head of Slytherin House for centuries.

"As Salazar Slytherin is my witness, I do."

It was low and sure...and she wanted to imagine there was a hint of relief in the deep velvet.

"Then yes, I am Slytherin's Augury."

Her ancestor had pushed some fearsome magic to further his cause, to protect her and the Prophecy of bringing balance back to the magical world. Strong enough to save a soul from even an unbreakble vow. And that magic wrapped around them, sealing the binding, him to her and her to him.

With tremblng fingers, Hermione dropped her hood.

Severus Snape —looking gaunt and far too thin— blinked at her. Twice. "What...? _Miss Granger?_ "

She twitched a smile. "Surprise!"

He blinked again…but then straightened. The bind flowed between them, a contract, a reminder and a heartbeat later, he gave her a deep bow. "My Lady. How may I serve?"

Something deep and ancient inside of her slid into place with a distinct click and there was a swell of satisfaction from Salazar. Yes, he'd always wanted this wizard as his, hadn't he? But...this was right. This _pact_ with Snape. The logical side of Hermione was in meltdown, aching to explain something that only had the answer of being…as it should be.

Pushing the wild churn of her thoughts to the side, she pulled the locket free from her shirt. "Did Dumbledore explain to you about horcruxes? This is one."

"Indirectly. I have pieced together the facts…and that the Dark Lord has created a number of them."

The strangeness of a…normal conversation between the too of them bounced through her mind. A part of her had ached to know this wizard, because as Salazar had said, he was brilliant. Now, perhaps, in this odd and inverse world, she could…

"This locket is also the repository for Salazar Slytherin, his mind, though not his magic."

Snape wiped his fingers over his mouth. Whatever his true feelings, he masked them almost perfectly. There was a slight tremor in his hand. How did he feel? To be told that the wizard who had modelled his life and so many of his students was…right there. And for an acknowledged muggleborn to be his chosen heir? Yes, he was masking it _very_ well.

"So it cannot be destroyed, or we would lose him too." Snape eyed the hulk of the basilisk skeleton and a long finger traced over his lips as he considered it. "A drop in this beast's venom, perhaps? Myth has it that he was immune." He frowned back at her. "Though _you_ were petrified by its gaze."

"Salazar has apologised for that."

Which made Snape blink again.

Salazar murmured the rasps and hisses of parsel tongue that would open the locket for her to remember and also offered up a theory. "Salazar is immune. He says…he believes I am immune to the venom, as that came from his mother's side, strict in the female line, but only appearing in a few males. And as it is a female gift…Riddle will not have it." Hermione let out a long breath after filtering Salazar's words to Snape. "Who knew he had such a handle on genetics?"

Snape's mouth quirked upwards. "That's plausible. The Dark Lord came from the first son. The…gift would've already been absent from his blood at that point."

Snape pulled a blade from his cuff, a silver knife that gleamed in the low light of the vast chamber, and conjured a large glass flask. "I imagine we'll be needing a fair amount."

He stepped over the bleached jawbone of the basilisk and ducked under the massive skull. Hermione pressed her hand to chest and remembered to breathe. She was immune. He was not. But he'd offered no hesitation. None. There was a job to be done, and so…he did it.

A sharp hiss, and a foul stench-filled cloud billowed out from the gaping jaws. Hermione flicked a bubble-head charm over herself and lurched forward, ducking down. Shit. _Shit_. Was…was he…? "Professor Snape? Professor!"

A black figure stepped out of the cloud, a charm also protecting him. He banished the noxious green gas with a casual finger-flick and released the protective spell around his head. "There are a further three sacs— Are you quite well, Miss Granger?"

"I thought…" She finite'd the bubble-head charm and shook her head. She caught her fingers in her tangled hair. He was fine. _Fine_. "I was worried for you."

He stared at her for a hard heartbeat and a hint of colour touched his gaunt cheeks. He inclined his head. "Thank you, my Lady." He lifted his shoulders. "Now, as I said, there are three sacs remaining. I have set a preservation charm over them. Will this"—he held up the stoppered flask that had to have at least two pints of swirling green basilisk venom within it—"be enough?"

* * *

Bubble-head charms in place and the flask reshaped into a deep and open cylinder, Hermione hissed the words that would open the locket. Wreaths of black teased out, the form of the hated Dark Lord striving for the air…before Hermione plunked the entire locket into the vat of venom. The locket and its long golden chain sank slowly to the bottom…

A scream echoed over the Chamber, wild and choked—

The flask shattered and Snape yanked her back, pulling her into his robes, the flare of venom splashing up like a geyser. Magic wrapped over them, fierce and tight and the liquid surged over them in a rush of stinking steam.

Silence fell…and there was only their laboured breathing. Hermione willed herself to relax, the scent of green herbs and old books easing her heart to a more even rhythm. Safe. They were safe…and a piece of Tom Riddle was gone. Was…?

A fist squeezed around her heart. Her mind reached for _him_ …but felt nothing. No. _No_ … Had they…had they exorcised the wrong wizard?

Snape eased back from her and straightened. He whisked a spell around the still-smoking holes in his academic gown. "Were we successful, my Lady?"

"I…"

Slow feet took her to the locket still sitting in a pool of green venom, its cases open for the first time in decades. An image of a woman covered one side, smiling, her hair a wild profusion of curls. _Theosophia Slytherin._ Hermione smiled and bent to pick up the chain. A tease of magic —Snape's magic— cleaned away the remaining venom.

The large locket felt…lighter with the weight of darkness stripped from it and with her eyes shut, Hermione slipped the chain over her neck.

" _My Augury!_ "

Hermione slapped her hand to her mouth to deny a sob as Salazar's exultant voice filled her mind.

"Miss Granger?"

Snape, a hint of worry in his black eyes, frowned at her and she shook her head, then nodded, then grinned, tears slipping free. "He's _gone_. And Salazar…Salazar is still with us."

The Headmaster's shoulders sagged and a pale long-fingered hand wiped down his face. "How many of these foul things remain? I suspect…" He straightened, as if a rod had found his spine. "We have much to discuss, my Lady."

Hermione's stomach growled, something almost…feral.

Snape's eyebrow rose. "May I offer you lunch?"


	6. Lunch

_5._

_Headmaster's Private Dining Room - September 1997_

Sworn to secrecy, a house-elf set out a feast on the dining room table. Hermione scrubbed clean and in fresh clothes, blushed as Snape drew out a chair for her to sit.

"Eat as you need to, Miss Granger. You look…malnourished."

"If you'll join me, please, sir?"

Stress and having to eat at the High Table, where she had very little doubt everyone loathed him, had to have done little to give the wizard an appetite. He gave a slow nod and over the courses, she brought him up to speed on where they were, and he, the situation in the school. No anger, no stress, except at the events that bound them both. And the food was…wonderful. She did have a hint of guilt, but not much, as she would be taking back a small bag of plenty Snape had offered. One that could even satisfy Ron's rapacious appetite.

She set her empty coffee cup down. "So the Diary, the Gaunt Ring and now the horcrux within the locket are dealt with. We know of two others. The Hufflepuff Cup and Riddle's snake, Nagini. Something possibly Ravenclaw…but…"

"My Lady." Snape's voice was solemn and he sat forward, his fingers locked, his expression impassive…but something flickered in his black gaze. "I believe. Albus…" He pressed his lips together and the hint of colour in his cheeks deepened. "Mr Potter is also a horcrux."

Hermione sank back into her chair, her thoughts whirling, her body boneless. Salazar's voice was a distant, fading rumble…

"Miss Granger."

Was that…? Someone was kneeling beside her, had taken her hand into his. Warm and strong. Blue veins threaded around pale and prominent knuckles. She knew this hand…

" _Hermione…_ "

Her gaze snapped to the pitch black gaze of her former professor, shocked by the use of her name. "Sir…?"

"I'm sorry."

Hermione scrubbed at her face, the grey fog in her brain clearing. The warmth of Salazar wrapped around her and she exhaled an easier breath. Her brain surged forward. "Venom won't work with him. He was bitten, the venom was _deep_ in his flesh. Without Fawkes' tears, he'd have died in the Chamber. And for the time he _did_ have the venom in his system didn't purge him. Harry still has his…connection to Riddle."

And _of course_ the connection was because Harry carried a part of that bastard around in him. He'd seen through the eyes of the snake when it attacked Mr Weasley. A creature they _knew_ to be a horcrux. "How long? How long have you known? How long did Dumbledore?"

Snape ran his thumb over her knuckles, before he stilled and tried to draw his hand away. "Me? May. Before…"

Hermione placed her hand over his and squeezed. "Salazar sees all." She twitched a smile. "He knows the true story, Headmaster. You were given no choice in how to act."

Snape closed his eyes, his long black lashes a fan against his sallow cheeks. A tremor ran through him. Someone else now knew his most desperate secret. Hermione wanted to believe it was relief that held him and another burden shed. And by Merlin, he was _thin_. The wizard needed feeding up. She held back a wince. She was turning into Molly Weasley, she truly was…

"Albus." Snape drew in a heavy breath and met her gaze. His fathomless eyes appeared comfortingly…less dark. "I believe he knew for a long time. Perhaps from the very beginning." His rich voice grew soft, but the words chilled her. "Offering him up like a pig to the slaughter." Snape huffed a sour laugh. "It would explain why he kept the boy from the wizarding world and allowed his guardianship to fall to his awful aunt."

"Wowed by his new world, and by the wizard at its head…who favoured him. Trusting. _Malleable_." Hermione bit out the last word. "And he'd set the path for you too, Headmaster?"

Snape gave a silent nod.

"Then I believe the plans of Albus Dumbledore are, as of this moment, null and void." Hermione gave him a sharp smile. "Time for something new, and quite, quite… _Slytherin_."


	7. Secret Kept and Keeping Secrets

_6._

_Secret-Kept Location - September 1997_

"Why are we here again, Mione?"

_"_ _Did he not listen the other eight times you explained it to him?"_

Salazar's question was a tense and angered hiss…and Ron's repeated asking of the same thing was wearing down on Hermione's last nerve too. Did girls mature faster than boys because they had to _deal with_ _boys_? Hermione resisted the hard need to slap him on the side of the head as he twitched back the blinds on a picture window looking out over a sunlit Georgian square.

"It's not difficult, mate." Harry wandered in from the small kitchen with yet another bacon sandwich. Possibly his fourth of the afternoon. "Hermione found a book that listed hallowed magical sites…and when a muggle builds on it, the building becomes magical. She did advanced and complex magic, for which she is _well known_ ," Harry smirked at her and she narrowed her eyes, "and here we are. In a secret-kept flat, somewhere in York, with a rather lovely bag of plenty she pilfered from Hogsmeade."

"Well, _I've_ never heard of it." Ron frowned as both Harry and Hermione gave him a look. He slouched. "My family's been magical for centuries. I know stuff too."

"Course you do mate, but we both know you're not Hermione Granger." Harry polished off his sandwich. "Think there's ice cream in that bag?"

Hermione snorted. "You'll burst."

"Oh, a challenge!"

But Ron wasn't finished, nor distracted by the talk of food. Unusual. "And what about the locket? Now that's fine, is it?"

Harry frowned. "What's your problem, Ron?"

"It's all too convenient. Too simple."

Ah, he had this sometimes, a perception at odds with his usual view. He caught strands others didn't see. So that's what the repeated questioning was. He was trying to catch her out in her lie. And he was right. It was a complete pile of shite. Mostly. The land was tithed to the blood of Salazar Slytherin. Only his Augury could inhabit it. Deeds the Head of Slytherin had guarded as their solemn duty down the centuries…and with no clue as to why. Salazar had prepared for her.

Severus Snape was her secret-keeper and that had to remain hidden at all costs.

Ron's eyes fixed on her, dark and distrusting. "Is that really Hermione Granger?"

Harry groaned and chased his fingers through his hair. "We've been here for over an hour. Mione hasn't eaten or drunk anything in that time. She isn't polyjuiced." He glared at Ron. "Or glamoured."

"It's too simple."

"Fine, mate."

Harry tilted his head towards the little galley kitchen and Hermione followed him. Ron shifted his gaze back to the window. Harry didn't risk a _muffliato_ , as the pervasive hiss would give away that they were discussing _him_.

Instead, he clattered about with bowls and spoons and a scoop and then shoved his whole arm into the little bag. He grinned as he brought out a cold glass dish of vanilla ice cream. "I love this bag. I may ask it to marry me."

Hermione shook her head. Harry was still a little…loopy from her return with news that she'd scouted out a flat, managed to de-horcrux the locket on the land the Georgian house was built on…and could feed them forever. But she would allow him that. He was a horcrux… She shoved down that pain and stroked the smooth, black velvet of the bag. She smirked at him. "At least your children will have tamer hair."

"True." He scooped ice cream into bowls. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Ron…is feeling a bit useless. He's injured," and there was the unspoken words of Ron's blaming _her_ for the splinching, "he was hungry…and that was making him angry…and then you come back, solving our problems as you always do. I mean, he likes you — _likes you_ -likes you— and this, well, I think he feels…inadequate."

Hermione picked up a spoon —though she was quite stuffed from her lunch with Snape— and swirled it through the scoops of ice cream. She risked a glance to the window, and Ron was still a mulish statue glaring out of it. "I can't…temper my abilities so he feels better about himself. We don't have that luxury."

And it would be that. She would have to appear less, _to_ _be_ _less_ …so that Ronald Weasley didn't see himself as emasculated. A sourness wrapped around her heart and not even Salazar's rush of comforting warmth could shift it. Her dream of a future with Ron was already crumbling away.

"I know." Harry picked up his bowl and cradled it to his chest. "Maybe when all this madness is behind us—"

"I will still be _me_ , Harry."

He let out a soft sigh. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

And there, right there, in that little kitchen in York, her firm future with Ronald Weasley died.


	8. Happy Birthday, Hermione

_7._

_Secret-Kept Location - 19 September 1997_

Ron was watching her, eyes darkened and suspicious. She wanted to tell him the truth, but knew that would make things ten times worse.

Sitting him down with, "Yes, Ron, I'm the first witch to be born to the female line of Slytherin and a prophecy chose me to bring back balance to magic. Oh, and see this locket. The former horcrux holding one? My infamous ancestor chats to me when I wear it. And, oh yes, I have a notebook I share with the Headmaster —yes, the current one, yes Severus Snape— to keep me updated on horcruxes and—"

At that point, she'd be ducking dark hexes.

The staring was easier to live with.

"You've changed, Mione."

" _Ron…_ "

Harry's low reprimand cut across her nerves. He flicked over a page and frowned at the faded print. "Rowena Ravenclaw had a hair comb. Not much use to old snake-face now though."

Old Ron would've joined in the ribbing…but New Ron cut into a potato, stuck it in his mouth and chewed methodically.

Salazar had said about him never wearing the locket when it held the horcrux…but had such a narrow brush with it changed him? Or was the change…was the change all in _her_? She had taken charge of the task Dumbledore set Harry, and she was keeping secrets from both boys. More secrets.

The soft chime of a reminder spell rang around the room. Eleven o'clock. They were trying to keep regular hours, stuck as they were in the increasingly cramped flat. Harry gratefully slammed the tome he was reading shut, releasing a fresh plume of dust. "I'm not getting much from it. Rowena wasn't that fussed about her things, but Merlin, can she chunter on about a spell."

Hermione grinned. She'd left the hunt for the Ravenclaw horcrux to Harry. Her hunt was more disturbing. And another secret. She could claim that they had to be sure the soul-fragment in Nagini could simply be solved by killing the snake…as she hunted for a way to remove the horcrux and leave the host alive. Each day, each old scroll or codex, even with Salazar and Snape's brilliance leant towards it as well…there seemed no way to remove it…safely.

She closed her own notebook. "Goodnight."

"Mione? Can I have a word?"

Ron put his cutlery down across his empty plate. Yes, the moaning about food had stopped. He now had six square meals a day.

Harry stopped, half risen from his chair but Hermione gave him a short smile and he wished them both goodnight, before disappearing from the little front room.

Hermione gathered her notebooks together as Ron seemed to need time to speak. There was a cut of red over his cheeks.

"Can you stop? Just leave them, for a _minute_." It was a demand and her lips pinched at it. Ron ran his fingers through his shaggy red hair and pulled in a breath. "Mum," he dug into his trouser pocket and pulled out a gleaming, white-gold ring with a clawed sphere of polished lapis lazuli, "gave me this at Bill's wedding."

Hermione's stomach dropped. No… No, he could not be proposing. Not after nearly a fortnight of snide cold-shouldering. Salazar was silent, but there was a wariness to his thoughts. Something about this particular ring was…telling.

"She thought that we might…" He frowned. "This was before she knew we weren't going back to Hogwarts, before the Ministry fell…but I think, some part of her guessed. She knows that you're, well that you _haven't_ …and said that sometimes, with a witch's _first time,_ " he rushed the words, his face mottled red, "that a bond forms. And that this would protect your reputation…just in case."

Dark thoughts moved through her mind. He was _not_ suggesting…? "Ron—"

" _Let me finish._ " Again something curt. Oh, he was simply digging a _deeper_ hole for himself. "You've been…out of sorts for weeks, and I thought, maybe this could solve it." He gave a sure smile she wanted to smack from his face. "You are _very_ tense, Mione."

Salazar's rising anger threaded through her own. "So, what you're saying is, if I have _sex_ with you, I'll go back to being 'good old Mione'?"

Ron blinked. Drew in a breath. And nodded.

Salazar growled.

Hermione stood, pulled her books and materials and notebooks together with sharp efficiency and glared at the oblivious idiot that was one Ronald Bilius Weasley. "I will not sleep with you. I will never sleep with you. Any chance of anything happening between us is over, done with and finished."

She shook her head as he gaped at her. "I wish to be with a wizard who is not sulky and intimidated by me, by what I am and what I can do. So thank you, Ronald, but no, you can keep that ring —and other parts of yourself— quite separate from me."

"Now wait just a minute! We have an understanding."

"You have no understanding of _anything_. Goodnight."

"Mione!"

Hermione surged into her room and slashed up wards tight enough to make the door creak. She dropped to the single bed and let the armful of books and notes fall to the mattress. Tears bled. He'd had a ring…not asked for, but given solely for reputation's sake. No mention of love, liking…nor even friendship. He simply thought that sleeping with her would effectively…sort her out.

Git. Utter and complete _git_.

_"_ _He is a particularly fine specimen of an ignorant young wizard."_

_"_ _He is. And I should be relieved he waited. I should._ I am _."_ She wiped at her wet cheeks, the pain and anger and mortification a wild churn through her body. _"August. If he'd asked me in August, in Grimmauld Place, with a ring and a bright smile, I would've fallen for it, Salazar. Before I spent time with him under true pressure…and then I would've been stuck with him. Forever."_

Hermione let out a long breath. "He's going to be worse now." She murmured the words aloud, needing the truth of them.

_"_ _Very likely."_

The ache was there for tea. For the calming ritual and wrapping chilled hands around a heavy mug and letting a familiar warmth and taste banish the stress. But…she was warded into her rooms, and she didn't want to set eyes on Ron. Not then. And the way her gut roiled, not ever.

Instead, she picked up her notebooks with their loose sheafs and began to resort them, carefully and methodically. Her gaze flicked to the plain black cover —of course— of the notebook Snape had presented to her. The itch to talk to someone so disconnected from her…her _teen-drama_ burned to the tips of her fingers.

He'd been sleeping better since he'd discovered her as the Augury and they'd destroyed a horcrux, or so he said. The need to fuss over him was one of those _clicks_ within her. The rightness of them. One she couldn't fathom, and a fortnight in, and pages filled with wit and serious discussion the like of which she hadn't known…she didn't want to dwell on it. Not with her future with Ron now so much dust.

Even with their…covenant, she would never be anything more than an annoying student to him. Still, as a friend — _a friend_ — he could be a welcome distraction.

A length of black silk —the wizard was predictability itself— marked her last page. She smiled down at his spiky script interwoven with hers as they pulled apart places where Tom Riddle would've hidden the Hufflepuff Cup.

—Are you lost in thought, Miss Granger?—

Hermione blinked at the words rising up to the surface of the creamy parchment. Naturally, he'd set a spell to tell him when the notebook was open. He was thorough. She picked up her quill. She had opened the notebook to be distracted, after all.

—Tired, I think. We're still no closer to pinning down the Ravenclaw relic—

—I _believe_ I have a lead on that or the Cup—

—Excellent!—

The speed with which Severus Snape could uncover necessary information was…astounding. But then he was a spy. And Albus Dumbledore was an idiot for not bringing the wizard into the horcrux hunt. Would he have put on the Gaunt Ring at all if the Potions Master had been with him?

—I have suspected for some time that Bellatrix LeStrange has something of the Dark Lord's in her keeping. She was smug tonight. Taunting. My position…unsettles her. The favour I have at this point in time. The Dark Lord appears to be finding me…indispensable and that's scratching Bellatrix. Hard—

—Are you all right, sir? Unharmed?—

And there was one of his pauses. The stretch of time he needed when she displayed any sort of concern about his wellbeing. Especially after a Death Eater meeting. Salazar had admitted that Dumbledore never asked after his spy, just took the information and dismissed him, often bruised and bleeding back to the dungeons.

—I am fine—

Another pause.

—I wove neat lies through my conversation with her, nothing false, but enough to flare her insecurities into a boast. I _am_ the Dark Lord's right hand, after all." She could almost see his wry, but bitter smile. "And was rewarded with, "I keep safe the like of which you could barely fathom". That sounds like a horcrux, don't you think? Bellatrix believes herself untouchable, that no one would dare steal from her—

Hermione frowned.

—It's in her Gringott's vault? Then she'd be right—

—Perhaps…—

Hermione shook her head. Did he plan to lie his way past a horde of goblins?

—Salazar says you're the best liar he's ever known, but even he will doubt your ability to lie your way into a bank vault—

Salazar laughed, something warm and rich and it cracked away a little bit more of the tension that still held her.

_"_ _I do not doubt him, Hermione."_

_—_ Ah, he _doesn't_ doubt you—

—Then I thank him for the compliment and am honoured by his faith in me—

To lie so easily wasn't in her nature…or perhaps it was. When it had a purpose. She'd happily lied to Dolores Umbridge to draw her out into the Forbidden Forest. But something curled inside of her, the worry that he would twist his words around her…and that she would never know.

—Will you lie to me?—

—No. A Head of Slytherin cannot lie to his Augury—

—Is _that_ a lie?—

A pen-pause and she could almost feel the pull of a dark smile over hundreds of miles of distance.

—No—

Hermione snorted, liking this Snape, so darkly witty, and so willing to…to indulge her curiosity. He was a haven in the tight and stuffy confines of the flat. A welcome relief to Ron. Especially this night.

She pushed on to safe topics.

—So…did you have proper meals today?—

—Fussing witch! Yes. I did. Even the house-elves are no longer trying to slip extra food onto every surface at which I'm sat—

—Good—

—I apologise, I must go. Albus is trying to read over my shoulder. He's also working to organise the other portraits to spy on me. He's aware something is…different. Phineas however is older…and wilier. There have been —unsubstantiated— threats that a portrait's most embarrassing secret could be splashed across their frame for all time if they fall into line with Dumbledore. Headmaster Black makes me quite proud—

—Wicked man!—

—As you say—

Hermione couldn't help the smile that broke from her.

—Goodnight, sir—

There was another pen-pause and she was just starting to frown as a single word rose through the parchment in rich black ink.

—Severus—

Hermione blinked and the nib of her pen stilled above the cream-coloured paper. _Severus_. It felt intimate…and again, that little click as if another tumbler had fallen into place to open a long-closed lock.

—Hermione—

—Then, goodnight…Hermione. And Happy Birthday—

She closed her eyes, her heart twisting. No one else had remembered.

And she stared at those six words far longer than she should.


	9. The Morning After...

_8._

_Secret-Kept Location - September 1997_

"Hermione!"

Hermione blundered out of her bed, her wand in her hand and yanked on the door handle. It was stuck fast. Tight magic flickered over her skin. Wards. Oh fuck. Wards… _and Ron_. She swore out loud and took down the thick shielding.

Harry was on the other side of the door, his hair raked and his face flushed. "He's gone."

She frowned. "What? Who?"

"Ron."

Harry thrust a torn piece of paper at her and she recognised Ron's blotchy scrawl. Yet another curse broke from her.

_Harry_

_Look. I'm injured…and I'm no good at hunting through old books and cracked parchment. You know that. And well, I'm not welcome here, am I? Not anymore._

_So, I'm going back to the Burrow._

_Good luck._

_Ron_

Hermione scrunched the paper in her fist. "That selfish…wanker!" She gritted her teeth, the swell of her magic pushing at the very edge of her skin, the metallic stink of it already thick in the air. From Harry's backstep, her hair had to be at the gorgon-level of writhe. "This. _This!_ " She shook the paper at Harry. "Because I refused to sleep with him."

Harry blinked. "What?"

"I would —apparently— be a lot less…tense if I had sex with him. He had a ring from Molly, to protect my reputation in case we _bonded_."

Harry's jaw dropped. "He… _what?_ " He caught his fingers in his hair and shook his head. "Then you know what? Good fucking riddance to him. Let's have breakfast."

He grinned at her. It was forced, but bless him, he was trying so hard. Ron's ignorance, his lack of support had to be cracking one of the solid foundations of Harry's life. But then she'd begun to learn that Ron Weasley could not be relied on…if things did not go his way.

She pushed to a safer subject. "You know, Harry, when this is done with, you can became a Ravenclaw scholar."

His green gaze slid to her. "Hermione Granger, that is a cruel and unusual punishment."

She made her way into the kitchen and stopped as she picked up the kettle to boil water for tea. "I'm sorry, about Ron."

"No." Harry shook his head. "You shouldn't have to…" His lips pressed together. "It shouldn't be a requirement that _your body_ is available to him so that he'd stay." Colour flashed across his face. "I may…I may never forgive him for that."

Her smile felt tight. She hated that they'd come to this. Broken apart when they needed each other to be strong, to win through the insanity of the task fate had set for them.

 _"_ _You are stronger without him."_ Salazar's smooth voice eased through her turbulent thoughts. _"And when you uncover which of Rowena's precious objects the Pretender fouled, it will be time to tell this boy of his fate. He deserves to know."_

Hermione closed her eyes as Harry rattled about the little kitchen, pulling out plates and cutlery. Ron's desertion had broken something in him. It was there in the tightness of his jaw, in the clatter of ceramic and the bash of drawers. She vowed in that moment, that she would not abandon her best friend to this fate.

Yes, fuck Albus Dumbledore's plans. The future was Slytherin.


	10. Goblin Favours

_9._

_Chamber of Secrets - October 1997_

"A goblin owed me a favour."

Hermione stared at Severus Snape and at the golden chalice he held in a dragonhide gloved hand. Being owed a favour by a goblin? Unheard of. What had he done to secure something almost…mythical?

Snape smirked and his black eyes shone. "It's only one of already _hundreds_ of favours I'm owed by grateful goblins."

Hermione blinked. Now it was even more impossible. "How?"

"It's not something for…delicate sensibilities, my Lady."

Salazar chortled. Actually _chortled_. _"Oh, this wizard. He perfected it. Congratulations!"_

"Salazar says congratulations for whatever it is I'm too delicate to hear."

Snape blushed and inclined his head. "Thank you, my Lord. Your journals led the way."

Hermione gritted her teeth. It was bad enough that a selfish Ron had left them and a gradually going stir-crazy Harry was picking at her last nerve…she now had two overly smug Slytherins to deal with. She closed her eyes and breathed. _A horcrux_. Snape had secured another Horcrux, readied the venom in a long cylinder and was about to plunge it into the green, smoking liquid.

His words had risen —black and stark— through the pages of her notebook, declaring his success in securing the Cup. Hermione used the old, and possibly tired, excuse of saying she needed more books. But they did. Harry had slugged through the piles she had, and they'd narrowed the last unknown horcrux down to three possible myths and the relics attached to Rowena Ravenclaw.

"Ready?" She lifted an eyebrow.

Snape placed the Cup on the glass lip of the cylinder…and pushed.

The chalice toppled into the venom. Snape grabbed her hand and yanked her away, tearing down the wide stone path, even as his magic surged a protecting shield around them. He caught her up in his robes and turned her away, his back to the—

—exploding shower of screams and venom as another piece of the Tom Riddle's shattered soul was destroyed.

"As a hobby this is dangerous…but satisfying."

Hermione laughed and shook her head…but it was allowed, his moment of snarking. Another one was gone. She straightened, easing free of his tight hold. In the low light, he was still grey and gaunt —he said he'd been sleeping better, but it wasn't obvious— but his body, that was more more…filled out. She'd had proof of his eating well from being wrapped up in surprisingly strong arms and pulled against a firm chest…

Merlin, she hoped she wasn't as red as she felt. "Will you tell me what you did? Please? It will gnaw away at me."

"If your…father will allow it?"

_"_ _I will."_

Hermione growled. "This is not the eleventh century. I am not chattel."

Snape lifted his infamous eyebrow. "It was professional courtesy, one Master Potioneer to another." But there was something in his gaze, a spark of devilment that said it might be that, but it was to poke at her being a witch, too.

_Men_.

"Of course," she bit out. Her lips pursed. "Well?"

"The Elixir of Salazar has been a myth to the goblins for a thousand years. Sought out. Yearned for. But…the formula didn't work. I long ago discovered it in Lord Slytherin's journals as Head of his House. Others have poked at it, even Professor Slughorn. I tinkered with it too down the years, yet, I was…reluctant to hand over that power to Albus.

"But these past weeks, I focused solely on it. Perfected it. And presented it to the Chair of the Goblins…with no payment, simply with the condition that on taking each dose, a binding and magical favour is owed to me."

"And…?" Hermione huffed a breath. "What does it do?"

"It is for…male goblins, my Lady."

Hermione closed her eyes and she was sure this time her face _was_ beet red. Men. Whether muggle, wizard or goblin. Men were…men. And now —thank you very much— she had the image of over-sexed goblins in her head.

_"_ _Why would you create this?"_ she demanded of her insane ancestor.

_"_ _For precisely the reason the Headmaster has used it for. The good favour of a grateful Goblin Nation."_ A touch of a sly smile touched her thoughts. _"_ He _would be worthy of you, you know."_

_"_ _He's twice my age. My…my_ teacher! _"_

_"_ _A magical being lives a long time…"_

Hermione bit back a curse. She did not need this. Not at all. Especially not when the ghost of Severus Snape's arms were still a delicious and tempting memory…


	11. Rowena's Relic

_10._

_Secret-Kept Location - October 1997_

"I have this."

Hermione pulled a vast tome from her bag and dumped it on the only clear space. Snape had offered it with a sharp smile that did rather strange things to her belly. And a reaction that told her that she needed to widen her circle of people if she was getting all hot and bothered over Severus Snape.

Salazar —the utter git— had laughed all the way back to the flat.

Harry groaned. "I'm going to need a new prescription with all this reading. Eye strain?"

"Your glasses are magical, Harry, and adjust to any vision changes."

He slid her a green glare, his mouth pinched, before he hefted the huge book in front of him…and his pinched look turned to a frown. He ran his fingers over the cover, the candlelight picking out indentations in the ancient leather. Tilting the book, his frown deepened. "Fuck me, I've seen this before."

"What?"

"That"—he drew his fingers around the shadow of a shape in the leather—"is a diadem. Rowena's Lost Diadem. But…I've seen it before." He wiped a hand over his mouth, sank back into his chair and shut his eyes. His breaths came out slow and measured. "I…was in a hurry. I wasn't paying attention." He snorted. "Story of my life that, isn't it? And…I. Merlin, I picked it up. I've _held_ it. It felt...strange."

He stared at the fingers of his right hand, flexing them.

"Where, Harry?"

"When I was hiding that…fucker's potions book." He gritted his teeth and a line of red cut across his cheeks. "This has to be it, Hermione. And it's _fitting_ , isn't it? _His_ book is by his master now. Bastard."

Hermione caught her fingers in her hair and willed down the flush to her face. Her heart thudded. If they'd found the Ravenclaw horcrux, then…then it would be time to tell Harry _everything_.

"So, we have to break into Hogwarts." Harry scrubbed at his face and groaned. "Couldn't it be something simple, like, I don't know, breaking into Gringotts?"

Hermione snorted. _If only_. Who else had Salazar planned to bind with a potion? And how many had succeeded? Merlin, had he made aphrodisiacs for the house-elves too, to bind them to the school as a personal favour? She gave an internal shudder. No, that was an image she _did not want_.

Salazar's soft laughter chased over her mind. _"House-elves bind to a place, to a duty, to the wood and stone and earth and fire. We built Hogwarts…and they came in their droves."_

 _"_ _They're not—"_

Gods, it wasn't time to lose hersellf in the intricacies of house-elf emancipation—

But…she blinked. Oh… Who better than the _house-elves_ , bound to the castle through whatever ancient magic it was, to know where this relic hid?

"Hermione?"

She frowned at Harry. "What?"

"You have that look. The… _I'm Hermione Granger, and no problem is beyond me_ …look."

"Oh, Harry…" She shook her head. He really did have entirely too much faith in her…but this time he was right. "The house-elves. They can find it. Then…" And the warmth in her belly at his faith died just a little. Now he had to know the truth. About her…and about himself. "Then, you have to trust me. We can end this fight against…" She waved her hand. "Against bastard snake-face far more quickly than Dumbledore planned. Or wanted."

Harry frowned at her. "Dumbledore?"

Hermione pulled out a chair and sat. She drew in a breath, her heart still a drum as she linked her fingers and placed them on the crowded table. "He…he sent us out with so little information. A single book left to me. A snitch to you. A deluminator to…to Ron."

She pressed her lips together. They didn't talk about him, though she knew that Harry listened to the wireless, scared that _his_ name as one of the Undesireables would flash from it.

"He wanted us to run around lost, confused, he wanted us delayed…when…"

She closed her eyes, not yet ready to admit Severus' role in the fiasco. And how pulling that wizard in had two horcruxes destroyed in a matter of weeks.

"Why?"

"I don't honestly know. There is something, something under this that isn't right. Yes, the fewer people that know of these things, the less likely it will get back to Snake-face and therefore he wouldn't rush to hide the objects from us. And yes, we're basically _children_. Who would think we could take this on?" She shook her head. Merlin, when had she last felt like a child? "But…a book that, I think, has nothing to do with horcruxes…and offering no way to destroy them?"

Her heart was a drum. She'd have to write to Severus, have him instruct the house-elves to hunt out the diadem…and work out a way to tell him about the potions book. She winced. That would not go down well.

"And now, you'll have to trust me, Harry. Truly." She pulled in a long breath. "If you do, I think, I fully _believe_ we can end this before Christmas."

Harry dragged his hands over his messy hair. "When…when I _don't_ listen to you, everything turns to shit. You, _you_ have me safe here, with food and with a horcrux gone—"

"Two. I… The cup. Dealt with."

" _Fuck_ , Hermione!" He stared at her. " _What…?_ "

"And the reason is a large part of why you _have_ to trust me."

"Okay." He shook his head and lifted his hands in surrender. "All right, what are we doing?"

"I have some things to get in place first."

Severus. The hunting house-elves. _Severus_.

The wizard had her mind and…and her _heart —she admitted it, see, Salazar?—_ looped into wild twists. Everything about him felt…right. As if she'd just been waiting to catch up with herself. Those bloody falling tumblers to open an ancient lock. He clever, darkly funny, and with him, she had the luxury of being able to be herself. Not to suppress anything about who she was or what she could do in the worry that he would snub her, or laugh at her or…or reject her. Oh, there was little chance of her succeeding in her affections, but as so-very-odd as it seemed, Severus Snape was a much better prospect that any other man —and certainly boy— she knew.

 _Harry!_ Harry was still looking at her, still waiting, still a little gobsmacked that two horcruxes had been destroyed whilst he'd had his head buried in Ravenclaw books and the bag of plenty…

 _Focus_. She had to focus.

Hermione sank back into her chair and gave him a sharp smile. "But, soon, _very soon_ , we're sneaking into Hogwarts."

* * *

No post tomorrow due to family commitments. All being well, I'll post the next chapter on Saturday.


	12. Another Gone

_11._

_Hogwarts - October 1997_

_I have it._

Those three words were still thick in her thoughts as she scurried through a darkened Hogsmeade, a cloak-wearing Harry at her side.

Severus —and the house elves— had found Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem within two days and it was now ready and waiting for her, for _them_ , in the Chamber of Secrets. Better there, and for Harry to see Severus destroy a horcrux, before his temper burst it seams and he tried to kill the Headmaster.

"Down here."

It was little more than whisper as she darted into the now familiar alley that would take her into the Chamber. The scent of wet stone and earth, the hint of iron from the heavy warding of blood magic churned through her, coating her nerves.

Hermione glanced back to the light of the street. Everything was still, just the fading hint of music and drunken chatter from the Three Broomsticks carrying on the cold air. A smile tugged at her mouth. Even with the threat of Snake-face and his ministry goons, wizarding folk still needed their ale.

"Take off your cloak, Harry."

Hermione pricked her finger, squeezed blood to the surface and smeared it over the damp bricks.

"Blood magic?" Harry's voice was a hiss as he folded his cloak and stowed it in the deep pocket of his jacket. "What the hell, Hermione, that's _dark_."

She twitched a smile. "Grey at best. But necessary."

Already the pull of air and magic was sweeping up from the ground to whip her away to the Chamber. She grabbed Harry's hand, muttered "Hold on" and they burst into the vast cavern.

Harry staggered, and then stared. He blinked. "What the fuck? This…this is the fucking Chamber of Secrets." He flapped a hand at her. "I know you're _you_ , Hermione...but how, in the name of Merlin's _left nut_ , did you find a way into here? From fucking _Hogsmeade_? With _blood magic_?"

Hermione held down a wince. "I had…help."

"You had—"

Harry turned and a roar wild broke from him. He lurched forward. All magic, all power forgotten. A half a heartbeat later, Harry's wand spun through the air. In the same instant, Hermione's petrificus totalis caught him, snapping his limbs together and toppling him to the stone pathway. Before he hit, another spell wrapped around him, jerking him upright. His face was puce, every muscle straining, his eyes wide and fairly spitting his rage.

Hermione winced. Harry was not having a good few minutes.

Severus lifted an eyebrow as he pocketed Harry's wand. "Hardly language to use in front of a lady, Mr Potter." He looked to Hermione, that eyebrow still sharp. "I also recovered my old potions text book."

Hermione's face grew hot. Yes, she'd not had the courage to scribble that down in the shared notebook. "The…the diadem?"

The corner of his mouth curled up. The hint of a dark smile that did those…things to her traitorous body that she should _not_ be feeling for a wizard twice her age. "Ready. The venom is prepared. Mr Potter should be moved to a safe distance, unless he wishes to witness the destruction of a piece of the Dark Lord…up close?"

Hermione bit back a sharp retort and just rolled her eyes. His hint of a smile deepened to a smirk. Utter git.

She ignored Salazar's dark chuckle and his "You _like_ him that way". _No_. She did _not_ like utter, smirking gits. When this nightmare was over, she had every intention of liking nice boys. Her ancestor's laughter echoed through her skull.

_Men_.

A sharp twist of her wand pushed a frozen Harry ahead of her, far from the familiar set up of a pot of basilisk venom and the shining diadem balanced on a wide lip.

"He's on our side, Harry," she murmured as her gaze fixed on Severus standing so close to the hated horcrux.

The old worry worked through her, overriding her twists of unease. This man faced so much danger for them. And everything — _everything_ — depended on the strength of his mind. A fist squeezed around her heart and even Salazar's strength of belief in the wizard didn't ease her straining nerves.

"He's _always_ been on our side."

Heated mutters broke from her friend and she let out a sigh. "After the horcrux is destroyed, we'll talk. There are two more left, Harry." Her gaze flicked to his forehead, to the scar hidden under the fall of his messy hair. " _Two_. Living…"

Her friend blinked. And again. Something seemed to…sag within the tightness of the spell and there was the realisation that he too had a dark chunk of the insane wizard in his flesh.

A scream and a surge of black smoke churned into the air, spiralling up, the gaping face of a raging Voldemort lurching after Severus. His magic swirled around him, throwing up a thick barrier against the blast of dark and bitter power…and surged around Hermione as the Headmaster swept up to her.

Severus dragged her into the shadows of his robes, pulling her tight to him. His warm and delicious scent wrapped over her. Something familiar…so familiar. Green herbs? Books, definitely books… _Parchment_. Her chest squeezed and air caught in her throat. Oh… _Oh_. Shit.

He was her amortentia scent. Merlin's great and shaggy beard. She was _completely_ damned.

_"_ _Said he was worthy of you."_

And didn't Salazar sound fucking _smug_?

"My Lady?"

Severus' deep, smooth voice was a rumble, a layer of concern edging it and it worked to slide warmth into her flesh. To kick over her heart. She willed herself to meet his gaze and tried not to think about the unexpected beauty of his eyes. Salazar would choke laughing on her mooning.

"It's an _insane_ hobby you have."

His lips twitched up at the corner and the soft shine of amusement warmed his gaze. A long finger eased back a wild strand of hair that curled across her cheek. The heat of his skin was there, a torment and Hermione sucked in a startled breath. Her mouth parted. And it wasn't her imagination — _it wasn't_ — when his gaze flicked to her lips.

_Mutual_. Oh dear gods… It was _mutual_.

Another falling tumbler. This was right. Utterly right. A breathless smile broke from her, and the need, the ache to stretch up on her toes and tease a kiss from his perfect—

"Hermione Granger what _the fuck_ is going on!"

She closed her eyes and sagged against Severus' hold. Harry had pulled free of his bind.

Time for explanations.

_Shit_.


	13. Harry

_12._

_Hogwarts - October 1997_

"You stunned him!"

Hermione stared at the slumped form of her friend, out cold on the long path of the Chamber.

A twitch of a dark smile tugged at Severus' mouth. "You have _no idea_ how satisfying that was."

"Severus!" She smacked his arm and glared at him.

A line of pink cut over his cheeks and he blinked at her…and she realised she'd just _smacked Severus Snape_. She bit her lip and her fingers curled into a fist. "I—"

"Should we not get Mr Potter somewhere more comfortable?" An eyebrow lifted and he waved her forward, even as his own magic curled around Harry and lifted him —her friend's body drooping like a puppet with cut strings.

"I…yes."

There was a change in his tone. A coolness and his mouth…his mouth was straight with no hint of the wry smirk that skipped her pulse. Had her over familiarity reminded Severus of who she was? The irritating close-to-being-a-former pupil? She cursed herself. And it'd been going so well.

In time that stretched with awkwardness, Hermione followed the well-trodden path back to the Headmaster's private sitting room.

And besides the mortification, one thought caromed around her brain.

She'd almost —almost— kissed him. They'd almost kissed _each other_.

Gods.

_And in front of Harry_.

That would've added even more fuel to the spluttering anger and sense of betrayal, she was sure.

She closed her eyes as Salazar's magic closed around her and pulled her out of the Chamber and into Severus' study. Warmth and leather, the hint of hickory smoke and the crack and spit of the fire eased the rush of her nerves. She felt…safe in this round room. More than anywhere she had for a long time…and it had a lot to do with the wizard who was settling her friend into a chair at a table she considered…theirs.

Merlin, her fall should not be this fast. But since she'd slipped Salazar's locket over her head, her world had been a series of tumblers slipping into place. Each turn and click right. Proper. Opening her and her world to dreams she never knew she could have.

She scrubbed at her face as Severus magically pinned Harry to the chair.

Yes, that…that was probably wise.

"Sit, please, My Lady."

Severus drew out the chair opposite to Harry and Hermione dutifully sat, her belly in a knot. She gave him a quick, uncertain smile and fixed on Harry as Severus himself sat, his wand obvious. He would have no qualms in hexing Harry. This was Severus Snape. Harry Potter had been a knife in his side for years. He'd enjoy it.

" _Rennervate_."

The softly spoken spell jerked Harry in his chair and another roar of anger broke form him. He thrashed against the chair, rocking it, till Severus pinned that to the floor. Harry have him a mutinous glare. "What have you done to Hermione, you _bastard_?"

"I can stun you again, Mr Potter, if you'd prefer?"

"Hermione! What did he do? You're under a curse. Fight it. Fight him. He killed Dumbledore—"

She winced. "Harry—"

"Can't you see? He's a lying, murdering, two-faced cun—"

"Harry!"

A quick and angered flick of Severus' wand cut Harry off. " _Enough…_ " It was a low growl that pricked at Hermione's skin. "Now you will sit and you will _listen_."

Her friend's angered gaze snapped to her. Cords strained in his neck and his knuckles were bloodless as he gripped the arms of the chair.

hermione knotted her fingers, resting them on the table top and breathed. Just breathed. He had to listen. And _believe_. "In the flat, I asked you to trust me. _Do you trust me, Harry?_ "

His lips thinned and he shot a glare to Severus, before his green eyes found her again. The edge of wild fury dulled…and he gave a slow and deliberate nod.

She drew out the locket from under her shirt and the amber and runes gleamed in flickering firelight. Harry blinked and his brow furrowed. His mouth opened and closed and Hermione looked to Severus, who with a narrowed, black gaze, lifted the silencio.

"Hermione!" Harry closed his eyes and breathed. In and out. And again. " _He_ is in there. He's twisted your mind. He—"

"Is _gone_ , Harry. But there is someone else. Someone who will end this war." She drew in a long breath and her fingers traced over the ornate clasp. "Will you listen, Harry? You know — _you know_ — I've only ever wanted the best for you. Always." She gave him a tight smile. "You're my best friend. And your fight is my fight."

Harry groaned and slumped back against the chair. "I know. I know, but…" He scowled and cast a glance to the stone-faced Severus. " _Him_ , Hermione?"

And under that single, stressed word, was a multitude of meanings. _Severus Snape_. Trusting him, working with him…and she was all too aware that Harry had witnessed her _almost_ kissing him… She couldn't look at the Headmaster, and she hoped her cheeks weren't completely pink as she murmured, "There is no one better."

It applied to _every_ meaning.

Harry scrunched his eyes shut and his shoulder's slumped. He looked to Severus, who, with an arch of an eyebrow released the spell that pinned him. Harry's elbows slumped onto the table, holding up his head, his fingers in the mess of his hair. "You're right. Merlin, you're _always_ right. I ignore that fact and everything goes tits up."

He flicked a glance to Severus whose wand had twitched at his language. Harry's smile was wry.

"Okay. All right. I'm listening. I _will_ listen. Start from the beginning. So...who is in the locket?"


	14. Explanations

_13._

_Headmaster's Sitting Room - October 1997_

Harry continued to stare at her. Just staring. At her. Then Severus. Then at the gleaming locket she'd pulled free of her shirt. "In there?" He waved his hand and added a sharp little flick of his fingers as he sank back into the heavy padding of the chair in the Headmaster's sitting room. " _Salazar Slytherin_ is in there, with…with _Tom?"_

"As we said, _he_ is no longer there." Satisfaction was thick in Severus' voice.

"And you—you!" Harry growled and dragged his fingers through his hair. "The whole time? Always. Always Dumbledore's man? You…did, did _that_ , on his own orders? Could tell _no one_." He stared at the shining table top and his voice dropped low. "And he was happy — _happy_ — to let the whole wizarding world _condemn_ you for it."

Severus' mouth thinned and a slash of red cut across his cheeks. He drew in a breath. "We —all of us— have been offered a new path. Albus had his vision. His plan for how the end would fall. But in a matter of weeks, we have safely and quietly—

"Not that quietly. That was an explosion of screaming!"

"Harry…"

Her friend dragged his fingers down over his face. "Sorry, this is so much, almost too much to take in. Snape, good. Dumbledore…scheming, more than usual. And me — _me_ — a horcrux. How did I not see it? It's so bloody _obvious_." He stilled. "And he knew. Dumbledore _knew_." His eyes narrowed on Severus. "For how long?"

Severus drew in a breath. "I don't know. And his portrait says that information was not passed on from Albus to itself."

Hermione frowned. "You doubt it's telling the truth."

A dark smile twitched Severus' lips upwards and there was that traitorous curl of heat in Hermione's belly again. With it came the reminder that she had very _nearly_ kissed him. And that he…he looked as if he'd welcome it.

Her ancestor's voice cut into her spiralling thoughts. _"It is a portrait of Albus Dumbledore…a wizard who would try to out Slytherin even me."_ Salazar's wry comment broke a snort broke from her.

"Salazar doubts it too."

"He's really…?" Harry was fixed on the locket again. "You're really…?"

"Miss Granger is Salazar Slytherin's Augury, the Lady the Head of Slytherin House has been bound to aid and protect for a thousand years."

There was reverence in Severus' voice and Hermione was sure her cheeks were quite pink now. A quick twist of panic in her belly made her blink. Was that where his interest came from? Her…her blood and connections, not to _her_?

Salazar's warmth swept around her, offering her the promise that it was truly mutual, but Harry burst out with—

"So how will you do it? Do I get dipped in a vat of venom? Or could you, you know, stun me -again- and splash—"

"No!"

The word burst from Hermione and she found a deeper echo of it from Severus. His fist banged against the table.

"You are not a pig for the slaughter, Mr Potter! That was Albus' plan. It is _not_ ours."

The ache to wrap her fingers around Severus' bloodless fist burned through her…but doubt stopped her and her nails bit into her palm instead. "We will find a way to get him out of your head, Harry. And keep _you_ alive. I promise."

Her friend's green eyes narrowed on her and he slumped back in his chair. "That's… that's what you've been researching. It's not about Nagini."

"I have a timed poison for that crime of magic," Severus muttered. Something bleak shifted in his gaze. "When we are ready, she will die."

Harry huffed a laugh and shook his head. "You're both more scary working together, you do know that, don't you?" His fingers found his hair again and he tugged at the roots. The already wild mess grew worse. "What now? Finding a way to get snake-face out of me…then, his familiar is a handbag and shoes…and then, I end him?"

"That's the start of it, yes."

Harry blinked. "There's _more_ , Hermione?"

She circled her face. "Salazar's Augury, remember?"

"Oh, it's _nice_ not to be the Chosen One for a change."

Severus barked a laugh and pushed himself out of this chair. Harry was staring at him. Her best friend's brain was quite likely to leak out of ears at some point in the night. A smile almost broke from her. Perhaps that would free them of Tom Riddle the easy way?

Severus ran a pale hand over his hair. "And rather than risk your continued travels through Hogsmeade, it would be best for you both to stay in the Chamber. Agreed?"

Hermione's brain surged with the logistics. The first was…amenities. What was down there but stone and basilisk bones? There was no way she was moving back into that bloody tent.

_"_ _My rooms. My_ other _secret rooms."_ Salazar's tone was wry _. "Before I carved out the Chamber for the sanctuary of my heir, I cut them from the bedrock. A place to escape from Godric murdering music on his dulcimer."_

Hermione spluttered a laugh and both men stared at her. "There _is_ a place we can stay."

* * *

Salazar's rooms were beautiful. A round room was at the centre of a warren of other round rooms, all magically carved from the dark bedrock and lined with thick tapestries. The air was fresh and clean, not a hint of dust thickening it. Magical windows looked out over various aspects of Hogwarts. The sitting room faced the Black Lake. There was a vast library and study glassed with a long view of the Forbidden Forest…and piled with ancient books that Hermione's fingers burned to grab from the shelves and rifle through.

But it was late and it'd been a bloody long day. Hermione was more than happy to curl up on the first bed she found. Though the itch was _also_ there to find a moment with Severus. She'd almost kissed him. And he…he'd seemed to have planned the exact same thing. And then he hadn't. And then…

Yes, they needed to talk.

"Everything seems secure. The wards are pristine. It appears a dedicated line of house elves have been entrusted with knowledge of this place and to keep it ready for the Augury." Severus smirked. "They saw fit to install decent plumbing."

" _Roland's children."_ There was affection in Salazar's voice. _"I said my wards would preserve everything just so…but they insisted."_

_"_ _They foresaw we'd need to wash…_ and _not simply vanish anything else."_

Salazar huffed. _"It simply vanishes in the pipe—"_

_"_ _I am not having this talk with you!"_

His laughter echoed around her head and she dragged a hand down her face. She turned to Harry, grabbed his arm and hauled him after her. "Come on, time to pick a bedroom."

Hermione opened one of the doors, finding a round, cozy room with rugs, a huge fire and a neatly made four poster bed. Heavy tapestries of mythical animals covered the cut stone of the walls. "Will this do?"

"You're just getting me out of the way."

Hermione frowned at him as she pulled his spare kit out of her beaded bag and placed the bag of clothes and toiletries on the lid of a large cedar trunk.

"Merlin, is there nothing you're not prepared for?"

She smirked at him. "You have met me, haven't you?"

"So," Harry plopped onto the mattress and sank into it. He groaned with bliss, "you and," he jerked his head to the door, " _him_."

"What? No! He would never—"

"Oh yes, yes he would. The old pervert."

"Harry!"

"Well, you're half his age. He was your teacher, would be your Headmaster if you were back officially. As I said, old pervert." He smirked and folded his hands behind his head. "And honestly, it's not the craziest thing I've heard tonight."

Words spluttered but nothing coherent came out. Yes, it was a whispered want, but he had to see how impossible it was… Merlin's teeth! It was _maddening_ to vacillate between surety and doubt.

Harry sat up. He squeezed her arm and a flicker of regret chased a shadow through his green eyes. All flippancy had drained from him. "Grab what you want, _who_ you want, Hermione. When you can. _Because_ you can. Before…it all goes to shit." He winced. "At least he…he suits you. You can be brilliant and scary together.

She frowned. He'd meant to say something else, the hint of it burned there.

Who had Harry lost? Cho? No, that'd faded. Ginny would have him back in a heartbeat when Voldemort was so much worm-food. Or…an old niggle, something she'd long ago dismissed, pushed to the surface. No, no, it couldn't be… "Harry…?"

His smile was sharp. Too sharp. There was an edge of pain behind it. "Go snog your professor, Miss Granger!"

She slapped his arm. "Harry!"

He smirked and shooed her from the room. Magic closed the door in her face and Hermione found herself staring at ancient wood.

"My Lady?"

Severus' smooth voice wrapped around her and she shivered. She didn't want that title from him. Not any more. "Hermione. It's Hermione," she murmured and turned to follow him back to the little round sitting room.

Firelight flickered gold over this pale skin and pooled in the endless dark of his eyes. He wasn't handsome. Not for a second, but he was…arresting. Magnetic. And the pull of him was becoming harder to resist with every passing second.

_"_ _He is worthy of you. Severus Snape and the Slytherin Bloodline. We've always…circled each other."_

She almost groaned and her fingers fumbled with the locket. She did not want her distant ancestor in her head right now. A girl was entitled to indulge in her insane crush alone, thank you very much. She slipped the locket into her robes, glad for the silence and found Severus frowning at her. "He often has too much opinion."

"Salazar Slytherin, opinionated. Who would've thought it?"

His lips twitched into a smile and her fingers burned with the need to trace the perfect line of his mouth. To feel the prickle of his skin at the end of the day, its warmth, and to follow the path of her fingers with her own mouth.

" _Hermione_ …" Severus wrapped her name in the softest velvet and her breath caught. A pale hand ran over his black hair and gripped the back of his neck. He drew in a breath. "It shouldn't be, but it _is_ more."

He lifted his chin, stern pride in every line of him. Of course, _of course_ , he was brave enough to speak first. He _always_ did what needed to be done. "You. This… Who I am. Who you are. How it would be…seen."

Her heart was in her throat. Was he saying…? Was he saying what she wanted, _ached_ for him to say? Or was this the rejection? She didn't know. Couldn't think. Her mind was a surge of doubt and she almost — _almost_ — slipped on the locket again to have a hope of working out Slytherin House thinking.

She wet dried lips. "Severus…?"

And squeaked as the rough tip of his warm thumb teased over her bottom lip.

"Sweet witch, you are…temptation, itself."

The words were a hot growl, before Severus Snape dipped his mouth to hers.


	15. Strange Paths

_14._

_Salazar's Rooms - The Chamber of Secrets - October 1997_

Bliss.

Utter, _utter_ bliss.

Hermione gave up her breath to the sureness of his mouth and sank against him as his long fingers threaded through the heavy mass of her hair.

_Right…_ All of it. Him This. _Everything._

The brush of mouth, the firm curve of his lips, the press of him against her. Gods…gods. An opening lock, that's what this was. So much more than the tease of lips, the warmth of his breath, the hint of his tongue tasting her.

Severus groaned and the delicious sound rumbled through her. And it twisted the ache for him so much _tighter_ in her belly.

"Severus…" Hermione fisted his coat, those infamous jet-carved buttons a wanted bite to her palm. Her other hand found his neck and she tunnelled her fingers through his hair. Silken. Thick. Not what she was expecting. What—

But then he deepened the kiss, his tongue finding hers. He tasted…sweet and dark and hot and—oh gods—his hand was on her arse and urging her— His high between hers, hard and right and sparking white-hot joy. Oh —oh fuck, he was going to make her come, just from, just from…

"Gods, girl…"

He eased back and his forehead rested against her. Hermione mewled and rolled her hips against the solid muscle of his thigh, desperate to find that spark of magic again. " _Please_ , Severus…"

"It would be so simple. So _easy_ to…" He growled —a hot ripple of sound that chased after the fading promise of her release— and his thumb again traced a slow line over her bottom lip. His dark eyes were warm. Beautiful. And Hermione fired with the urge to kiss him again — _sleep be damned!_ — and to go right on kissing him through the night.

Severus' lips quirked upwards. "Quite… _insatiable_ aren't we, Miss Granger?"

Fresh heat flooded her, a quick rush that raced and churned through her flesh, curling around that illicit and _unsatisfied_ need still throbbing low in her belly. _His voice_. Gods and Merlin and all his little demon friends. His voice was sin and promise. "I…"

The warmth in his eyes deepened. "I am…aware of your inexperience, Hermione." His strong arms wrapped around her and she drew strength from him as she pressed against the length of his body, as she breathed him in. Green herbs and parchment and the sweet, dark hints of vanilla. "Your esteemed ancestor —from his portrait— has griped around Mr Weasley's…heavy handedness."

Hermione sank a mortified groan into his chest. "Am I never to have any secrets _ever_ _again_?"

Severus's soft laughter rumbled through his chest. "Salazar is proud of you. Immensely proud. And protective. And he _has_ waited a thousand years for you…"

"Now you're laying on the guilt."

"That I am." He let out a long sigh. "You are everything to him and I will honour that."

She huffed. "I had to hurl myself at an _honourable_ wizard."

"You did, indeed."

"And it's serious?"

Hermione eased back from him to meet his dark gaze. Perhaps…perhaps, they were rushing it? Had he felt the strange fall of tumblers as the rightness of being with him in this way simply…dropped into place? It wasn't logical. Or even sane. But then neither was it even _believable_ that she was now the right hand of Salazar Slytherin and set to do his long-neglected work in the wizarding world. "You're… _sure_ , Severus?"

His large hand cupped her cheek and she pushed into the heat of it, her lips pushing the heel of his palm. "Look at me."

She blinked. For a moment, a haze of magic flowed around his face and there, under it…

"Severus…?"

_A glamour_. Severus Snape existed under yet another mask. He…he wasn't handsome and his nose was still a little too large, but there was a smoothness, a symmetry that _Professor_ Snape had never shown. And his hair, straight, shining and full, ended in a curl against his shoulders. The hair she'd _felt_. His lips quirked upwards in the twitch of a self-conscious smile and the hint of white teeth made her blink again. Why…why had he hidden a perfectly good face under a foul mask?

Something hot and hard tightened in her chest. She bit out one word. " _Dumbledore_."

"A teaching glamour. I wasn't much older than the students I taught, but…"

"It made you the object of ridicule. And he didn't let you fade it down over time, did he?" She gritted her teeth. For some reason, Albus Dumbledore had been scheming against Severus Snape for a very long time.

Dumbledore had crushed this wizard, wilfully. Deliberately. And she would find out why. Then set his portrait on fire. It was the very _least_ he deserved.

"I must…"

But those were questions for later and magic swirled again. Yes, he still had to maintain the illusion, of being the evil Death Eater and have a face that fit his supposed foulness.

Not that she cared. Hermione stretched up onto her toes and plucked a soft kiss from his lips. "I fell for this face first."

Severus' eyes closed and he drew in a long breath. He shook his head. "We're moving along strange paths."

"Good paths?"

His dark gaze fixed on her again, and a hot wickedness lurked there. His mouth ghosted hers, a hint of heat, of the smoothness of his lips, the very tip of his tongue teasing her upper lip. " _Very_ good paths, I promise you."

A needy moan broke from her and yet more mortification swept through her. "You are evil, Severus Snape."

"Yes, yes I am." He drew back and took her hand. His mouth brushed her knuckles, the hint again of his wicked, _wicked_ tongue there against her skin. He smirked at her, his gold-heavy eyes sparking with devilment. "Good night… _Hermione_."

Her name was a sin-filled rumble and quite distracted her. "Yes, it has been, hasn't it?"

And with that vagueness and Severus' following chuckle, she floated off to bed.


	16. Her Wizard

_15._

_Salazar's Rooms - The Chamber of Secrets - October 1997_

"Can I see it?"

Severus sank back against the heavy padding of the couch and slid her a dark look. "I had no idea you would be so…forward, Miss Granger."

Her cheeks flamed. No… _no_! She didn't mean… Mortification and whispers of need chased through her caroming thoughts—

_And —argh, Merlin's bits— she was wearing the locket._

"You _know_ I didn't mean… _that!_ "

He lifted a coal-black eyebrow and _that_ skittered yet more wicked warmth through her flesh. Seriously, an eyebrow —a bloody _eyebrow_ — should _not_ set her heart racing. But it did. Yes, she was a thoroughly lost and smitten witch.

"Did you not? How…disappointing."

" _Wicked_ man."

He gave a gracious nod. "As you say."

" _And_ you're distracting me." She looked to his shirt sleeve, to his left arm. "You said it changed?" She drew her fingers over the warmth of the white cuff. The curl of heat lurked in her belly that after a whole week of agreeing to this…moving along their path together. That he felt…safe enough to sit with her in only his shirt sleeves as another hit of bliss. That and his collarless shirt was open, the revealing slice of his pale collarbone a constant temptation.

He was also without the glamour that had cursed him for decades.

She blinked. _His glamour._ Would that cover it? Protect him? "But if it's changed, how do you—"

"Regardless, it was…forged from the line of Slytherin, and because of that I can sense the Dark Lord when he calls. There is a ghost of the mark still, thankfully fading every day. And this," a whisper of magic dropped his mask over him, the dark, surly and foul Professor Snape, "covers all of me and imprints the Dark Mark over my new binding."

The glamour lifted and he covered her fingers with his free hand, giving a quick squeeze before releasing her. His cheeks were pink, from the fire or embarrassment, she didn't know. "You must not feel…guilty, Hermione. This binding released me. Freed me."

Had he noticed her wince? No doubt. Severus Snape was a very observant wizard.

He eased the cuff back and rolled the white sleeve up, end over end, to reveal the…the brand that still —in spite of his assurances— had her stomach in a knot.

Hermione's fingers traced over the warmth of Severus' strong, sinewed forearm. Firelight from the great hearth before which they sat flickered over his pale skin, limning it in gold…and making it evident that the bind, the covenant they shared, had most definitely dissolved more than the Unbreakable Vows that had held him.

Severus Snape's infamous Dark Mark was no more.

No, that wasn't quite true, was it?

As he'd said, the foul skull had faded to a dull, ashen grey, but curling in the snake's stead, in a deep and gleaming silver, was a basilisk. The ancient symbol of Salazar's Bloodline. Around its shining scales, wound the path of a silken band, one without end.

_"_ _My sweet Theosophia. The symbol of her hidden line."_ Salazar's voice was little above a murmur in her mind. Ancient sadness threaded through it, the knowledge that he'd set into play so much…destruction to protect the prophecy that had his wizard-born daughter at its heart. _"I will leave you. Spend time with your wizard, my child. Do not neglect the moment."_

_"_ _Salazar…?"_

But there was only silence.

"Hermione?"

She twitched a smile and lifted her locket free, placing it in a dish on the low table beside the couch. "The winding ribbon." She reached out again, without thought, and drew the path over Severus' skin. It prickled at her touch and her belly fluttered at sharing something so innocent…but so intimate with him. She drew in a breath. "It's Theosophia's mark. Salazar has a thousand years of —not regret, I'm sure— but the _consequences_ of her prophecy."

"His legacy as a hater of muggles and muggleborns and how that stained his House and Line."

She gave a slow nod. "I never thought…"

"No one knew. Not even us, the Heads of his House. We were aware of you, as an abstract, of course." A twitch of lips on a face that was his —and was not— and he stroked her cheek, his thumb drawing a gentle line under her lip. "But not your mission."

"About which I am still mostly clueless." She huffed a laugh and kissed the tip of his thumb. And stilled. As had he. "Severus, did I…did I do something wrong?"

"I am not…used to…" He winced, the familiar line drawing between his brows. That action had bled through the glamour, obviously. Yes, she was slowly learning what had been and was not his true face beyond the safety of the Chamber. "Easy affection. That has never been a part of my life."

She blinked. Had he not…? Had he never…? He certainly _kissed_ like a man who knew what he was doing—

"Sex and affection can be two quite separate things, my sweet witch." And he smirked at her, something dark and wicked and totally delicious. "I am not a novice in that…art, I promise you."

Breathing was overrated, And optional. Completely optional.

He drew closer, his warm breath brushing her mouth. "But I have never done this…this precious thing, of a man and woman teetering on the very _edge_ of falling." He drew back and his endless eyes, so beautiful held her transfixed. " _Fall with me_ , _Hermione_."

" _Yes…_ "

Salazar was right. Severus Snape was _exactly_ the wizard she needed.

* * *

Appointments have clustered together over the next few days, so I'll be back Saturday at the latest.


	17. The Unexpected

_16._

_Hogwarts - Late October 1997_

"You wouldn't think that extracting a soul from a living host would be quite so obscure…and difficult…and _obscure_."

Harry slammed the stiff leather cover of the ancient tome shut and a fresh cloud of dust rose to thicken the already mote-heavy air. Hermione waved her wand and chased a cleansing charm after the specks, banishing them to the fire burning in the large hearth as she'd been doing for days.

She shook her head and sank back into her own chair, the warmth of the thick damask a comfort to her aching shoulders and spine. She huffed a laugh. "Yes, who would believe it?"

Harry pressed his fingers into his eye sockets and slumped his elbows on the book-crowded table. "We…we have to consider the fact that I should just—"

"No!" Hermione bit out the word. "No, we will not consider it for a second, thank you very much, Mr Potter."

A soft laugh broke from her friend. "Kissing Snape too often. That explains it."

Hermione growled at him.

" _Way_ too often."

She threw her quill at him, his seeker-reflexes saving him from a splatter of fresh ink to the face.

" _Dumbledore_ ," and she couldn't help the hard edge that came with his name every time she said it, "raised you to be a sacrifice. Therefore it benefited him in some way. _Therefore_ ," Hermione fixed him with a fierce glare, one that would do Severus proud, "we will not follow that route. We still have time. Am I quite clear?"

"More scary too," Harry murmured.

A snort broke from her. It'd been ten days since they'd moved into the Chamber of Secrets —the main secret being that Salazar had prepared it for _her_. And in those few short days, she'd settled into the fact that she had a very definite…something with Severus Snape. A delicious, toe-curling, butterflies-in-the-belly something that more often than not had her day ending with kisses-she-never-wanted-to-end before the hearth. A setting where he allowed himself to wear his true face. Though she was as happy to see a scowl on the decade's old glamour he wore too.

_Fall with me._

Gods, those three words still gave her the most delicious shiver. She really was quite _hopelessly_ smitten.

_"_ _As I have said from the beginning, a wizard worthy of you," Salazar murmured._

_"_ _You needn't be_ quite _so smug, either."_

But there wasn't much of a cut to her mental tone.

She focused again on the pile of books, open and discarded and yet more to read through for even the slightest hint of a way to separate souls. "There has to be a way, Harry. _Nothing_ is truly impossible with magic. Perhaps…something used in sundering a bond? A potion or…or a blood rite."

Harry frowned. "That's dark, Hermione."

"Intent," she muttered.

"You _intend_ to kill snake-face's soul."

She blew out bad air. _"Would it be dark, Salazar? The path to hell, and all that."_

_"_ _It is…grey. How it would affect your magic, I couldn't say. It's very personal to you. It's a complex subject in how a Dark Path changes —or does not change— your magical core. So many vagaries. In the end, I believe, Hermione, that —if it needed to be done— then it is something that we_ must _do. Because it would be the_ right _thing to do, regardless of the…personal cost."_

He was silent for a moment. _"I would have kept Theosophia with me, witnessed her first steps, her first words…every part of her life would have been mine to see, but I had to cut her free from my line and spit vileness till the end of my days. To attack and belittle, and my legacy shadowed a millennium. Set how many on a Dark Path?_

_"_ _My magic was tainted. I could feel the cloud of it as I met my end. My soul, I couldn't say. But…with my time over, I would do it again. And again. We do what we_ must _."_

_"_ _Dumbledore—"_

_"_ _Used others to gain ground, never inconveniencing himself. Your friend is his finest example. And his last act, to demand such a thing from Severus. No. Even if I fell before the temptation of that cursed ring…I would've faced the Pretender and obliterated both myself and him. And left details with those I trusted —with Severus— to destroy the remaining horcruxes._

_"_ _And I would give Mr Potter the choice, as you may have to, my child."_

Hermione's throat was tight and she pulled another tome from the pile and eased back the stiff leather cover to reveal the mottled first page and faded writing. _"I know…but not yet."_

The echo of boots, of a fast and angry stride, jerked her attention to the thick doors that hid their warren of rooms within the larger Chamber of Secrets. _Severus_. His magical signature smacked against the wards, sharp and bitter And he was angry, fiercely so. Her fingers flicked, easing back the protections and he burst in, all billowing robes and bitter scowl.

Hermione flicked a glance to Harry, who buried his face in another book to hide his smirk.

It was just like old times.

"Your research? Anything?" Severus planted his hands on the stable and glared at Harry, before those black eyes shifted to find her. "Anything at all?"

"Severus…?" Hermione's stomach twisted, a dark pulse pressing against her heart. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

"I am being given the…honour of a position in the Ministry." He closed his eyes and she could hear the grind of his teeth."The Dark Lord intends to turn over the school to _Dolores_ _Umbridge_." He shook his head, and worried eyes fixed on her. "We have just run out of time."


	18. And there were five...

_17._

_Hogwarts - Late October 1997_

" _Umbridge!_ " Hermione caught her fingers in her hair and fisted them. Her heart drummed and she stared at Severus, her face hot as panic teetered on the edge of her flesh. "Does…does he _doubt_ you?"

For a moment, Severus closed his eyes and she could almost feel his focus falling into place. Silently, he shook his head and let out a long breath. "No. If anything I am…entrenched. His right hand." He huffed a sour breath. " _Albus_ ' plan."

Something shifted in her thoughts and she recognised Salazar's presence, but he was oddly quiet. What was it about Severus' words that affected him? Her mind leapt. _The prophecy_. The one that her ancestor was still reticent to share. Her belly clenched. Was…was _Severus_ a part of it?

Everything was racing along with such speed that wringing the words out of Salazar hadn't pushed into her mind. There was far too much going on already with _Harry's_ prophecy in play.

"When?"

Harry sat forward, his face tight. Yes, this move had just made all of their plans moot. There was no time to hunt out a way to remove the horcrux. Fuck.

"I've convinced him that she assume her…. _duties_ the first week after the half term."

Harry frowned. "That's…?" Yes, he was losing days as was she. "The school breaks up…this Thursday, doesn't it?"

"Two days." Hermione bit her lip. Just two days. Severus could not disappear into the Ministry. He was the only one protecting the children from the insanity of the Death Eaters in the school. And Umbridge, Umbridge was a _monster_.

"Miss Umbridge could appear at any point after that."

Harry buried the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. "The _second_ after," he muttered.

Severus pulled out a chair and sank onto it. He winced, his gaze flicked to Harry before finding her again. "There's more. All prefects will be Slytherin. And Draco…Draco will form a part of the staff.

"The _staff?_ "

Harry stared at Severus, his face flushed and a quick vein throbbing at his temple. It was more than the toad coming back. Drafting in Draco Malfoy sank him even further into the dark, would taint his magic and his soul as he was forced to mete out punishments…and he _—_ she was more certain now _— he_ was Harry's regret.

"He is…Marked. It's his honour. Others of my House will follow with a lesser bind—but still holding them to the Dark Lord. The Mark of Loyalty, he calls it. The mad man will swallow and condemn all of Slytherin." Severus' pale hands curled into bloodless fists against the table top. "This has to end. I will not see him consume _children_." He looked to her, but beyond her. "Salazar. We are at the end of your prophecy. The words of it must now be spoken."

A cough broke the silence and all attention jerked to the fireplace…and the portrait frame that'd stood black and empty since they'd moved into the secret rooms.

_Salazar Slytherin_.

Hermione had seen chocolate frog cards of the taciturn wizard, who'd swirl off in a twist of velvet robes and huff at being caught in something as childish as a sweet card. Was there any semblance to her in his stern, hawk-like features? A black skull cap was a close fit to his bald head. As unlikely as the thought was, had he once had a profusion of curls to mirror his daughter?

"We need more than we four before those words find the air again, Severus. There is one more."

Hermione frowned. "Who?"

"A woman I got to know rather… _well_ when she was an apprentice in these halls."

Severus was frowning. This little gem of knowledge had obviously escaped even him. "Who is it, my Lord?"

Salazar's black eyes shone and that was a definite smirk curling his thin lips. "Minerva McGonagall."

Severus blinked as Harry spluttered a disbelieving " _What?_ " and " _How?_ " and a swing of his head to her and back to Salazar and a final " _No_ , my brain is not going _there_!"

Hermione shook her head, not wanting to follow Harry down that path either. "There's hardly time to convince Professor McGonagall."

"Yes, she is a true reflection of her House."

And there was that glint in his eye again and Hermione was considering a self-oblivate. Who knew there was something worse than worrying about the arrival of the Toad-Umbridge?

"She is indeed," Severus murmured. There was a hint of warm pride in his voice. "She has been a very _lion_ these past weeks. I would have preferred…" His shoulders lifted and fell. "But that was the part Albus —with his silence— wanted her to play. His portrait refuses to confirm the truth of my own loyalties."

And there was a thread of regret wrapped around his affection. Dumbledore had robbed yet more from this wizard. The trust —and valued friendship?— of Minerva McGonagall.

Salazar's features tightened in his frame and Hermione could feel the displeasure cutting through the locket. No, the ancient wizard did not approve of Albus Dumbledore's methods, at all.

"Wait…" Harry scrunched his fingers through his hair. "Umbridge is a Slytherin and…and aren't you like catnip to Slytherins, Hermione? Couldn't you…?" He waggled his free fingers. " _Tempt her away?_ "

Oh, she could happily throttle her so-called friend as his words drove a fierce heat up over her face. She couldn't look at Severus. Was that what she was? No, he wanted her for herself, not for her heritage and magical bindings. And she would throttle Harry again for putting such…foul images in her brain. Thank you _very much_ , Harry Potter.

"I am _not_ tempting Umbridge. I might slap her and hex her and feed her to the acromantulas. Yes, that I would happily do. The other. _Gods_ , no." She glared at her friend. "And she'd be just as interested in you, you know."

Harry gave a long shudder. "No…no. That's just… No. Ugh, Hermione. _No_."

"Does she have this Mark of Loyalty, Severus?" Salazar's portrait was a calm relief through the hideous images cutting through Hermione's brain.

"She does."

And Severus' smooth, dark voice was the true balm Hermione needed as she let out a tight breath.

Salazar wiped his hand over his mouth and chin. "I can break binds only on my Head of House. Only they are sworn to Hermione. Other Slytherins, yes, you will have some sway, my child. But those bound to the Pretender in any form? No, there is none."

"Bugger," Harry muttered under his breath and got a glare from Severus.

"You're right, Severus." Salazar paced in his frame. "The prophecy must be spoken." And the portrait looked to Severus and something passed between them. The Headmaster drew in a long breath, lifted his chin and nodded. He stood. "I'll return shortly."

"Wait! What?" Hermione snatched her fingers through her hair, fisting a wild knot of curls at the back of her head. "Salazar?"

"As always, the Headmaster will do…what must be done."

"That is _not_ reassuring. What—?"

A wild shriek and a shock of magic burst out of the sitting room. Hermione lurched from her chair, Harry behind her, wands in hand. They skittered to a stop in the doorway to the sitting room. Severus stood before the hearth, his wand pointed to a bound —and seething— Professor McGonagall.

"You've finally decided to do away with me, have you, Severus Snape?" The Professor bit out the words, rocking against the bind of his spell, her face puce, her hair wild. "You _foul_ excuse for a wizard. I'm glad I never trusted you. _Never_. Never liked you. How could I? You were a disgusting and deceitful child grown into a piss-poor man. Yes, I'll tell you _that_ truth before my last breath!"

And Professor McGonagall spat at him, the spittle hitting Severus' left cheek.

Hermione gasped, the pain of the attack a fist in her chest. He'd just all but said how much he admired her. The pain of her words was there even through his hated glamour. There in the sudden blanking of his eyes and his stiff shoulders as he still held a firm wand on the bound witch.

Severus lifted his chin and wiped the spittle from his cheek. "As you say, madam."

Hermione's insides twisted. It was soft and quiet and Hermione's stomach dropped. The ache to rush to him burned through her. Damn Albus Dumbledore.

Severus drew in a breath. "And now you, Professor, will hear more truths." He looked to Hermione and then to Harry and tilted his head. He stepped back as they crossed the room to stand before him.

McGonagall blinked, looking from Harry to her and back to Harry, her eyes wide and her mouth falling open. "What…what is this?" She blinked. " _Severus?_ "

Hermione felt the wizard stiffen behind her and she reached back a surreptitious hand to find his fingers and squeeze them. Yes, to lash those words only heartbeats before, then to expect him to fall into his old role? No, that was not happening. Not yet.

_"_ _Minerva…"_

Salazar's voice cut through the silence. He'd stepped into the empty frame above the fireplace. There was an edge of…salaciousness to her name that pricked Hermione's skin.

"So nice to see you… _fully dressed_. For a change."

And the witch burned scarlet.

* * *

Moving to every other day or so, so I can work properly on my o-fic. I need the monies!


	19. Making Ready

_18._

_Hogwarts - Late October 1997_

"I…"

McGonagall slumped and Severus flicked her free of the incarcerous. The witch staggered and Harry darted forward to help her into a chair. "Believe me, Professor, you need to be sitting down for the rest of this…craziness."

The witch caught her hand in her hair. "Mr…Mr _Potter_?"

"In the flesh."

The older witch looked to him, then to Hermione and Severus, but her gaze skittered past the portrait of Salazar. Just what had the seemingly strait-laced witch done with the long dead wizard? Hermione tried not to dwell, but her thoughts kept circling back to the fact. It didn't help that Salazar's amusement was a dark heat at the back of mind.

Merlin, she'd had too many brain curdling thoughts in the space of a half an hour. She did not need more.

Harry drew up a little foot stool and plopped down on it. Yes, she would let him begin to share the facts. Hermione doubted she wouldn't snap at the older witch, because Severus was still stiff and silent behind her, his fingers threaded tight through hers.

"This," Harry waved an encompassing hand back to them, the occupied frame, the room, "all of this is due to, I'm told, yet another prophecy. Not mine, this time, thank Merlin."

He offered a too bright smile and Hermione could feel his strain. Poor Harry. No, she would not let him go. Not easily. Not at all. She'd come too far with him. There would be no more loses on _her_ side. And if that meant protecting a certain arrogant blond ferret for her friend, she would do that for him as well.

"Another…?"

McGonagall looked to Severus and blinked. Was she expecting an answer from him? Where was his apology? Did she not realise how much her words had wounded him?

"It's Hermione's. From a thousand years ago," Harry said, breaking into the dragging silence. "She—"

"Is the Lady Hermione, Scion to the House of Slytherin." Severus' voice was low and proud and Hermione glanced back to him, finding a dark and wicked shine to his eyes. She didn't blame him taking a stab at the Professor's pride in her being a Gryffindor.

"Miss Granger…? No." McGonagall looked to the portrait behind them. "And you… _you_ accept that?"

"I have been waiting for her, for my _true_ heir, for a thousand years."

"This…"

The older witch slumped back into the chair and Harry summoned the decanter from the side table. A glass followed.

"Here, Professor." And he splashed a generous amount of brandy and handed it over.

It was gone in one slug and her hand was out for a refill.

"And you, Severus? Was all this," McGonagall waved her glass, "an insane plan of Albus'?"

Severus eased his fingers free from Hermione's tight grip, gave her a short nod and left the room for the library without a backward glance.

McGonagall stared after him. "Now you see here, Severus Snape—"

" _Minerva_ …" It was a low and dark command from the painting above the fireplace. "You were cruel. Deliberately so. And you have yet to apologise."

"I thought that he—"

"He took you under my order." Salazar's voice was clipped and his disappointment in the witch threaded through Hermione's thoughts. "Now you know he is working against Riddle…and yet…"

The older witch closed her eyes and blew out a long breath. She swore. Possibly in gaelic. She pushed herself to her feet and handed her glass to Harry. "I…have some grovelling to do. And then," she gave them a gimlet glare over the shine of her glasses, "I will expect _proper_ answers."

Hermione watched the door close to the library and couldn't help but knot her fingers, worried for Severus.

"He's a big boy, Hermione. He'll be fine."

Harry flopped back on the couch and patted the seat beside him. Hermione drew in a breath and sat. She scrubbed her hands over her face. "We will win this, Harry. And mainly you _have_ to win, so that you can claim a certain snotty blond…"

Harry stared at her, his face flushed a mottled red. "I…what? No! I have no interest in—"

"Harry…"

"I'm not—"

"Harry…?" And she lifted an eyebrow.

"That's…odd you know, copying his mannerisms so perfectly. It screams that you spend far too much time staring at him."

Hermione gave him a tight smile for trying to change the subject. "Oh no, far from it. My eyes are often…closed."

Harry shuddered and slapped his hands to his ears. "My innocent boy ears!"

She snorted. "This from the _boy_ who said I had to seduce Umbridge."

"Gods, Hermione. That's worse. That is so much worse."

"Then let us not change the subject." She pulled his hand between both of hers and squeezed. "I will protect you. And for you, I will protect him. I promise."

Harry blinked and stared at his hand in hers. He let out a long breath. "He's under my skin, y'know?" He twitched a smile and there was a deep shadow in his eyes. "And I nearly killed him with Snape's insane spell. That… Gods, Hermione. I…realised then what it was. How I felt. And fuck, I was so angry at him. And…and at _myself_." He shook his head, squeezed her fingers and fell back against the thick padding of the couch. "I mean, it's impossible, isn't it? Me…and _Malfoy_?"

Hermione snorted. "I'm the Heir of Salazar Slytherin and _very_ serious about my future with one Severus Tobias Snape. Ask someone else what's impossible, Harry."

"Yes, there's that." He rolled his head against the padding of the couch to look at her. "We will get through this." His lips quirked upwards. " _And_ get to keep our snakes."

A statement. Not a question.

"Yes, yes we will."

The door to the library opened and a red faced Professor McGonagall appeared, her eyes bright and wet. Severus, as stoic as ever followed. Though there was a hint of pink to his sharp cheekbones.

He nodded to her and she let a breath. All was not well, but…better.

Salazar coughed, bringing their attention to him. His lips pulled upwards into a sharp smile. "Now has Severus pointed out, it is time the full prophecy of my wizard-born daughter found the world again."

A sense of the overly dramatic. Her ancestor had definitely favoured _that_ trait in his house.

The portrait smirked at her. "Yes, let us begin…"


	20. Prophecy

19.

Hogwarts - Late October 1997

"On the morning of Theosophia's birth, a Seer found us. A young girl, still almost a child herself, but that…ethereal mark of Seer was upon her."

Salazar's voice was smooth and hollowed by his frame, a strange sound when Hermione was so used to the full depth of his voice in her mind. She glanced at McGonagall as she sank down next to her on the long couch. Severus remained standing, though he was directly behind her and she could almost feel the reassuring warmth of him.

"'Heed, House of Slytherin', she began. Prophecies..." He shook his head and a twitch of a smile pulled at his thin lips. "And hers was a true insight to the future. I'd witnessed enough of them. 1043 was _thick_ with them."

He was stalling. Hermione could almost feel it. This was something he'd kept hidden to himself for almost a thousand years.

_"Please, Salazar."_ A whisper through her thoughts to him and his long sigh was almost audible.

In his frame, the ancient wizard straighened and lifted chin. "'Heed, House of Slytherin. A Child wrapped in Sacred Wisdom spins a secret thread of Time and Power to a Child Born Well. They seek to Balance the World. And You shall hide their Bond in Darkness and Scorn.'"

Salazar wiped a hand over his bearded chin. "Those were her words. And the only ones on the Prophecy she spoke for the rest of her life."

"Theosophia and Hermione," Severus murmured.

"Indeed, Severus. We'd already decided on our daughter's name before the Seer came to us. And we knew that Theosophia didn't have a wisp of magic to her flesh." His dark eyes slid to McGonagall. "We cared not. And now…now before she knew us, we had to give up our daughter and my plans to hide her line began."

He paced his frame, his face tight, a nerve jumping at his temple. "I had no more to go on until…twenty five years ago. When a student here, a young Ravenclaw…"

Severus groaned and Hermione glanced back at him.

"Sybil?" he asked.

Salazar nodded. "Yes. She was in her first week here. She found me…I'm still not sure how, and said these words, 'In the end times, Darkness and Light revolves around He Who Is Favoured on the Land of the Rightful Heir.

"'He falls and all is lost. The Future will be as a Silent Door.

"'He is victorious, and your House, Slytherin, will rise with him.

"'Balance forever restored.'"

Severus swore. Thoroughly and in three, possibly four languages, one being Aramaic. "I was the year above Sybil and she would just stare at me sometimes. I put it down to those odd little Ravenclaws you get. Miss Lovegood is another fine example. But some part of her bloody _knew_." He gripped the back of the couch, his fingers bloodless and leant hard on his hands. His head fell forward, his hair a black curtain around his face. " _Me_. It all revolves around _me_. Shit."

"Yes."

"Somehow…somehow Dumbledore _also_ knew _._ "

The words broke from Hermione. It was the only explanation for how he'd treated Severus for decades. Binding him close…but making his world unstable. Only him, only Albus as his anchor. For what reason? Why would he want to thwart the balancing of the magical world when he was —supposedly— a wizard of the Light?

" _Fuck_." Severus jerked away and strode to the window that looked out over the lake. His gaze fixed there as he muttered, "And you've always known too, haven't you, my Lord Slytherin."

"Not till the Pretender began to sniff around you, Severus, no."

Severus' spine was stiff, his shoulders hunched over. He breathed in and out. Just that. Though every inch of him…vibrated. He'd thought himself free, when he was a pawn. Again. Hermione wanted to go to him, to offer comfort…but McGonagall was there and she would not open him up to yet more scorn from that witch.

"What's the Land of the Rightful Heir?" Harry threw the question into the strained silence.

Salazar's voice was quiet, his attention locked on the unmoving Severus. "Theosophia's ancestral seat. Egremont Castle in Cumbria. Secured to the hidden line of Slytherin since her death."

Harry caught his fingers in his hair and winced. The heel of his hand dug against his hated scar. "Then…that's where we face Riddle." His mouth quirked into a bitter smile. "That's where we end it. _All_ of it."


	21. Banding Together

20.

Salazar's Chamber - Hogwarts - Late October 1997

"Are you ready? Because I'm not. And I am." Harry rubbed his hands together as they stood in the little atrium. A flame flickered in a wall sconce, dancing shadows over the carved walls and the wide doors that led into the meeting room.

Was she ready? No, not really. The Order was on the other side of them, gathered there by McGonagall in yet another of Salazar's secret rooms. The bedrock upon which the school stood was mostly hollow.

 _"_ _Three quarters. Seven eighths…at a push."_

Hermione bit her lip, stopping a smile at Salazar's words. And they eased through the twist of her nerves, of her rolling over what could be said and what must be hidden.

_Horcruxes and the one in Harry's head._

In.

 _Her has a descendent of Salazar Slytherin and with a mission set in motion by his —_ her _— prophecy._

Out.

 _Severus Snape working for them; always working for them_.

Most definitely in.

_Her relationship with Severus._

Oh, not before hell froze over—

The door creaked and McGonagall stood there, her face tight, lips pinched. There was a strain to her these past hours. More than working to pull the Order and the most trusted members of the Army together.

_Was she cutting out a certain wizard's name from the title of that group? Was she that petty? Oh, yes she was. On both counts. Old manipulative git._

McGonagall's realisation that the former Headmaster had used her, pitted her against Severus when she could have been his ally —his confidant— was rubbing raw. Dumbledore had been her friend. Trusted. A wizard upon whom she could rely…utterly. Though now, it was obvious he couldn't be trusted to the edge of his golden frame. And Severus, though cordial…was still reserved with the witch. There was a dark pain in the older witch's eye every time she looked at him.

The witch looked back into the shadowy hall. "Everyone on our list is here."

Some had been deliberately left out. Mundungus, for one, was as trustworthy as Dumbledore himself. The whole fiasco at the Ministry with the locket had been due to _his_ sticky fingers. He'd robbed them of Moody…though it was doubtful _he_ would've been brought to this first meeting. Not with the way he felt about Severus.

Some were added. The Heads of the Houses. They had plans for Hogwarts and her children that would need their co-operation, and damn it, she would not have them thinking badly of Severus Snape for a moment longer.

Salazar's warm approval lurked at the back of her thoughts. _"I'm pleased you think so. And I've always thought he'd make an excellent life-companion for my Augury."_

 _"_ _You surprise me. You've been so_ subtle _about your favour, so-may-times-removed great-Grandfather. I never knew your opinion about him at all."_

Salazar's laughter chased through her mind and eased her nerves. _"Indeed, I was the very epitome of…myself."_

Hermione huffed a breath as she followed Harry into the long, vaulted meeting hall, faces she knew crowded onto concentric rings of stone-carved benches. She pulled her thoughts into focus. Their harried whispers echoed. Fear. Worry. Anger. All of it chased around the hall.

"Thank you for coming here today." Harry's voice echoed over the stone and the chatter instantly died back.

"You're looking very well, Harry." Luna's soft voice rose out of the silence. Her pale eyes shifted to Hermione and her head tilted. A touch of a smile lifted her lips. "Finally, Hermione" was all she said.

" _Seer?_ "

Salazar snorted. _"Seer,"_ he agreed. _"One who looks remarkably like the young girl who first spoke your Prophecy."_

Hermione almost groaned. _"Don't add yet more strangeness to my life, please!"_

"Yeah, _really_ well."

And that bitter murmur came from the back and one hunched Ronald Weasley. They couldn't leave him out. As much as she would like to. He couldn't be trusted not to do something completely idiotic left to his own devices.

Harry's gaze narrowed for a moment, before he lifted his shoulders. "There's going to be a lot to get through today. A lot." He shook his head. Another breath. "Okay. All right."

He pulled a folded over piece of parchment from his jeans and opened it up. His gaze slid to Hermione and there was a spark there. Yes, the first point would be…fun.

"Point one. It's been confirmed. Severus Snape is on our side."

 _Uproar_. Many on their feet, wand in hand…and the spell-dampening wards buried thick in the walls did their job. Not one of the spells aimed at her and Harry sparked free. That raised the anger.

"Sit!"

McGonagall's command ripped through the room. Most had been educated by her and that tone was ingrained. Hermione had to fight the real urge to park herself on the nearest bench.

 _"_ _Remarkable woman."_

Salazar was back to approving of her…and Hermione _did not want to know_.

Silence fell again. But it was tense with wands still gripped in bloodless fingers and lips pressed tight. "Allow Mr Potter to speak. This is the truth."

"Now Minerva…"

Remus' patronising tone itched under Hermione's skin.

"Remus. Enough. As de facto head of the Order and as Deputy Head of his school, I am commanding _all of you_ ," her gimlet gaze seemed to pin every one in the room at once. Some fidgeted and looked away, "to listen to what he has to say. The threat is imminent and we do not have time for…theatrics."

Harry nodded to her. "Thank you, Professor." He straightened. "Now, as I was saying, Professor Snape is on our side."

"He killed the Headmaster. You saw it yourself, Harry!" Ron's voice rang out. Of course it was Ron.

Harry ignored him and looked to Hermione. She stopped herself from rolling her eyes. So much for her staying out of the initial presentation. "Kingsley, did you confirm the wards in this hall? Please list them."

The auror ran a hand over his bald head and let out a long breath. "A magical suppression charm, focused on spells spoken in anger and with dark intent. And an encompassing truth spell."

"So bite back on a few things," Harry added and a smatter of snickers broke out from the Army.

Hermione lifted her chin. "We cannot lie here. What we say, is not only what we believe, but truth in fact." She slid a look to Kingsley. "Is that the reality of it?"

Kingsley gave a slow nod. The first revealed fact and his knowledge concerning the spell was obviously rearranging his worldview. Good. "That's it, Hermione. It's a powerful charm. It can't be…circumvented."

She twitched a smile at him. "Thank you. Harry…?"

"Then what I just said _is_ true!"

Shame the suppression in the hall made it impossible for her to bind and gag him…as they'd be a little bit too much anger and dark intent in her wand arm.

Harry ignored his friend and ploughed on. "Professor Snape was under orders from Dumbledore himself. The former Headmaster suffered from a curse, a cursed object. He wanted Professor Snape to be…prized by…Snake-Face. Killing him would secure him as Head of the school and ensure the protection of the school. That plan has failed. But more on that in a minute."

Harry drew in a breath and she reached out to take his hand, squeezing it. A loud huff came from the general direction of Ron and she ignored him. Here was the truly difficult point.

"Point Two. Snake-Face has tried to make himself immortal."

Horace Slughorn pressed a trembling hand to his face and sank down in his seat. Yes, he knew exactly what was coming.

"He split his soul. Seven times. Placed them in objects. He's anchored to the world and he cannot truly die because they exist. Kill his body and he becomes this spectral…thing. It possessed Professor Quirrell." For a moment, he pressed his lips together. Gods, Quirrell felt like a _lifetime_ ago. "Two were destroyed. I…killed a diary." Ginny buried her face in her hands. "And Dumbledore destroyed a Gaunt ring. The ring that gave him the curse that killed him."

Oh Hermione approved of that phrasing.

"And why I —we— trust Professor Snape. He's destroyed three of them, in our presence…and is ready to finish off the sixth. The seventh…" Harry winced. "I… _I_ am the seventh."

"No!"

A cry broke from Molly. Remus and Arthur were on their feet. Ron had slumped, staring. Neville, Ginny, the whole Army, blanched.

Harry held up his free hand for calm. "Point three. Dumbledore's plan for the school failed. Snake-Face has appointed Dolores Umbridge as the new Head, starting the week after half-term."

The whole room lurched to their feet in fury, swearing and spitting anger and Flitwick would be heard curing in Gobbledegook. Yes, nothing unified a body of people like their hatred of the Toad-Umbridge.

"Quiet!"

McGonagall's order bounced off the walls.

Harry drew in a long breath. "Now we have a plan, to secure the school, protect the children and end all of this." Harry ran his hand through his hair. "I don't know about you lot, but I'm tired." He slid her a dark look. "You have _no idea_ how many books Hermione has had me reading. Merlin, I _miss_ quidditch."

She gave him a mock scowl and released his hand.

Hermione turned to the door. It was time to bring in Severus.

 

* * *

Family stuff has come up. I will update when I can


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